


The Draco Malfoy Incident

by Xoxoky



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Anal Sex, Angst, Depression, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, Happy Ending, Hogwarts Sixth Year, Hufflepuff Pride, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Not Epilogue Compliant, Not all Slytherin's are evil, Obsessive Harry, Slow Burn, Soft Draco Malfoy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-07-12
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:35:12
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 109,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24859258
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Xoxoky/pseuds/Xoxoky
Summary: Draco Malfoy is best friends with a Hufflepuff. A HUFFLEPUFF! He's also partnered with a redhead git, trying to hide from an obsessive green-eyed saviour and has become overly fond with sunrises. It's exhausting. Can't a man plan an assassination in peace around here?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 187
Kudos: 426





	1. Chapter One.

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: If Harry Potter was mine then Ginny Weasley would've died in the Chamber of Secrets, Voldemort would have a nose and Drarry would have realised that the fighting was just foreplay.

The mark was a part of him.

Draco dug his nails into the palms of his hands. A part of him that was larger than not wished that he drew blood. He wanted to hurt. He wanted to feel the pain of suffering that he so desperately deserved.

It took the little strength he had left not to look at the mark that stained his skin. The blackened snake reminding him of what he was. Of what he would never be. He was dirty, repulsive, a complete disgrace to wizarding kind. His whole worth, his entire existence all coming down to one choice. A choice he thought he made out of pride, one out of ambition and devotion. He’d hoped to prove himself worthy, to make him seem more than the petulant child he knew himself to be.

Now he knew better.

He’d made a choice. One out of fear. Out of pure desperation. Gone was the feeling of pride. Rejected was the tug of loyalty. Crushed his ambitions lay.

Instead he was lost. Broken. Engulfed in a path of devastation. He’d realised he had never truly felt pride. Nor loyalty.

No.

His pride was misunderstood. His loyalty a product of fear. His ambitions were his fathers. Draco was nothing but a fake. A fraud. A puppet. His decisions never fully being ones of his own making.

That hardly mattered. He felt his restraint dwindle as he glanced at the arm where the dark mark lay, covered by his robes. He was no longer Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince. He was weak. A follower. He wasn’t anything but a single choice.

Draco blinked. Ignoring Pansy’s concerned gaze, he surveyed the array of young faces situated in the Great Hall. Some showed deep traces of fear, others determination, a few dusted with complete boredom. He was disappointed but not the least bit surprised that the bored few were Slytherins, nevertheless. It wasn’t that long ago that he would’ve been one of them. He would have internally laughed at Dumbledore’s words, showing nothing but disinterest. That wasn’t the case anymore. It hadn’t been since the day his existence had been reduced to nothing but a choice.

He inclined his head slightly to face the Headmaster. He stood tall and proud. His features twisted into a mixture of kindness and sheer determination. Draco shook his head slightly, the Headmaster may have had everybody else fooled, but he couldn’t fool him. Draco knew better. He saw the slight shake to the Headmaster’s stance. The concern upon his raised brow, the fear in his glossy eyes. After all, how could he not notice such things that he had become so well acquainted with?

“There comes a time when we must all face the choice between what is right and what is easy.” The Headmaster spoke steadily.

Draco shuddered. His words hitting far too close for comfort. Dumbledore thought he knew so much; that he’d had it all figured out. Well he was wrong.

It wasn’t right to align himself with The Dark Lord. It wasn’t right to bare his mark. It wasn’t easy to have his home ripped from him. It wasn’t easy to see his mother withering in pain at the hands of a crucio. It wasn’t as easy as to flock over to the order and leave his mother to die. It wasn’t bloody well easy to renounce everything he was brought up to believe, but still be trapped in a destiny that had already been decided for him. So, Draco didn’t have a choice between right and easy. He had a choice between life and death, and he’d chosen the latter.

“Dark forces attempt to penetrate this castles walls. But in the end, their greatest weapon… is you.” The old crow concluded, and Draco looked up, straight into the burning green eyes of _Harry Potter._

Draco grimaced slightly before looking away. He didn’t have time for Potter this year. The days of antagonising Potter were long behind him, he had far more pressing matters to attend to.

He sighed. If he were honest when he thought of Potter he didn’t feel anything but deep regret. He regretted the way he’d approached him in their first year. He regretted the years of antagonising and bullying. Draco had been nothing but a narrow-minded bigot, a replica of his father’s beliefs and words. He’d been a parrot, a vessel, an object to carry out the twisted beliefs of the Malfoy’s before him.

He still hated Potter.

He hated him with every fibre of his being. But instead of hating him because he was a half-blood scumbag that had rejected his attempt of friendship. He hated him because he was overly dramatic. He thought of himself as terribly hard done by. He hated him because he was impulsive, arrogant. A small-minded fool that thought he had the worst luck in the world.

Draco scoffed. Whilst he could wholly admit that Potter hadn’t had the easiest life, he couldn’t help but hate him for how he went about it. Yes, his parents had died when he was a baby. It was perhaps true that his family wasn’t the nicest to him. He very surely was the enemy of a crazed madman who wanted to kill him.

But he had people who loved him. People who were devoted to him and would do anything for him. He had people to guide him, to show him right from wrong. He had people willing to die to keep him safe. He’d made a family in the Weasleys.

Draco didn’t have that. He had a mother that loved him but smothered him. His mother being too weak to keep him safe. He had a father who said he loved him but beat him. Who had conditioned him to carry out his family duties, ever since he was a young one. He had friends who cared for him but were so entrapped in their own prejudice beliefs to ever go against their families and help him. He had nowhere to run, nowhere to hide. No one to turn to when he needed aid and comfort. He was completely and utterly alone.

He blinked back the tears that threatened to stain his cheeks. He was in public. A Malfoy never showed emotions in a public space. He took a deep, defeated breath. Perhaps he hated Potter far less than he envied him. Above all, he knew one thing for certain. He could never hate Potter as much as he hated himself.

….

Draco was making his way towards the Slytherin dungeons. He had managed to ditch Pansy and Blaise after dinner claiming that he had to talk to Professor Snape about something. The two had probably thought that he was going to talk to Snape about his task set by the Dark Lord. Merlin, if that’s what they wanted to believe, he sure as hell wasn’t going to correct them. They thought he was still a deep follower of the Dark Lord, eager to carry out his task and he got a little bit of privacy. It was as good as Draco was going to get.

He was nearing the dungeons when he heard a small cry come from one of the pillars. He blinked before carrying on with his pursuit towards the dungeons. He reasoned that it was probably a ghost or something.

Not a moment too soon, another cry came from behind the pillar. It was louder this time, more distressed.

Draco knew that he shouldn’t walk towards it. That he shouldn’t draw any more attention to himself than he needed to. Alas, he found himself involuntarily walking slowly towards the pillar. His feet taking soft, curious steps as if they had a mind of their own.

He stopped a few steps in front of the pillar and took a deep breath. “Who’s there?” he asked, embarrassed to find that his voice started to waver.

A high-pitched squeak erupted from behind the pillar and Draco found himself taking another cautious step.

“You can come out.” He tried again, thinking slightly before adding, “I won’t hurt you.”

There was a soft rustle from behind the pillar, but the thing, person or object in question remained hidden.

“I promise.” He attempted one last time.

He waited patiently for several seconds before sighing deeply. It was clear that they would not show themselves. He supposed he hadn’t expected any better. They’d probably sensed what a traitorous, murderous bastard he was and were too scared to have anything to do with him. He couldn’t blame them; he wouldn’t have either.

He was about to turn to leave, when a small tuff of curly brown hair stopped him in his tracks. He watched startled, as a small girl crept out from behind the pillar. She was small and frail, he guessed that she couldn’t have been older than a first year. Her robes were too long, her black eyes drenched in tears.

Her eyes widened when she saw him and Draco bit back a shudder. She’d probably recognised who he was. How couldn’t she have? The Malfoy hair was a signature trait.

“I’m sorry,” she blabbed hysterically, “please don’t hurt me.” she begged.

Draco shook his head, taking a hesitant step towards her. “I’m not going to hurt you; I promised didn’t I?” he tried his best to shoot her a reassuring smile.

She clutched her robes and backed away, “you’re a Slytherin, I _know_ that you’re going to hurt me.” she told him

Draco furrowed his eyebrows, feeling quite confused, “what does me being a Slytherin have anything to do with me hurting you?”

“I’m a Hufflepuff.”

He smiled in understanding. “Well, I’m not sure what that has to do with it, but I promise that I don’t want to hurt you.” He tried his best to come off as sincere as he felt.

“But Slytherins don’t like Hufflepuff's.” She stated as she shifted slightly.

Ah the whole Slytherin and Hufflepuff one-sided hating. Slytherin's had hated Hufflepuff's for as long as he could remember. It was fitting in a way, he supposed. The sly, scathing Slytherin praying on the innocent Hufflepuff. 

He sighed, deciding that wasn't the best thing to tell the scared, little girl.

“That may be the case for some Slytherins.” He started “but I happen to think that Hufflepuff is one of the most loyal and dearest houses.” He was lying through his pure white teeth, of course. But he found himself wanting to say anything to make her feel safe.

“Do you really?” she asked, her eyes growing wide with wonder.

Draco chuckled. “Yes, I can assure you that I do. In fact, if I were you, I’d feel extremely proud to be in Hufflepuff.” He gave her a small smile as he forcefully tried to prevent himself from turning green with disgust.

She gave him an award-winning grin. “I am proud.” She took a small step towards him, “I’ve always wanted to be in Hufflepuff, ever since I first heard about it. My friend says that Hufflepuff's are the kindest and bravest houses of them all.”

“They’re right about that. Hufflepuff's are very much brave and kind.”

That wasn't exactly a lie. Kind? Most definitely. Brave? Ha! No chance in hell.

She gave him a small nod. In light of her slowly relaxing posture around him, Draco attempted to divert the conversation towards a much more pressing matter.

“So, do you want to tell me why you were crying outside the big bad Slytherins dorms?” he asked her.

She averted her eyes to look at the floor, “I’m lost.” she stated and he couldn't help but notice how adorable she sounded.

Draco smiled. He remembered when he was a first year and the castle seemed like a colossal, daunting establishment. He was awfully familiar of it now, but he still found it to be quite large.

“Would you like me to take you to the Hufflepuff dorms?” he offered.

She nodded enthusiastically and Draco was surprised when a small hand latched onto his own. It was a very peculiar act, but it strangely warmed the pits of his stomach, nonetheless.

They casually made their way towards the Hufflepuff dorm, the little girl talking his ear off as they went. He’d learnt that she had two younger brothers, that her new robes were extremely itchy and that she was quite partial towards chocolate frogs. He grinned slightly as she said that, as he found that he too had quite a liking for chocolate frogs.

When they’d finally reached the Hufflepuff dorms, she stopped before going inside.

“I’m Katerina” she started, “but you can just call me Kat.” She held out a hesitant hand which Draco gladly took.

“I’m Draco—”

“Malfoy?” she gasped, her eyes widening as she abruptly let go of his hand.

Draco nodded, not sure of what else he could say. He feared that she’d react like this, he was used to it.

She eyed him sceptically, “my friends at the Hufflepuff table told me that you were a big, awful, Death Eater Slytherin and to stay away from you because I’m a Muggleborn.”

He sighed, “Perhaps they were right, you should stay away from me.” He put his clammy hands into the pockets of his robes. “I’m not a good person.” He added for good measure.

Kat shook her head slightly as if she were coming to a realisation, “I don’t think that you’re a bad person.”

Her words startled him. He knew for a fact that he wasn't the person she thought him to be. It was hard, being like this. Putting on a mask that he had become so accustomed to wearing that it seemed less of a mask than a second skin. Going through that everyday, being someone that he hated, but continuing to being that person anyway. It was harder than anyone could ever imagine it to be.

He couldn't change. He wanted to, desperately. But how could you change the person that he was always destined to be?

“You don’t?” he challenged, with a hint of wonder.

She shook her head more certainly now. “I was crying behind that pillar for ages. So many people passed me by and didn’t as much as spare me a second glance.”

Draco opened his mouth to speak, but she cut him off. “You’re the only person that came to check if I was okay.” She smiled, “I don’t think that you’re a bad person.” She repeated. “I think that you’re lovely.”

Draco felt his cheeks start to heat up. No one had been this nice to him in a really long time. Of course, he didn’t agree with her, he knew that he was evil incarnate. Still, it felt good to hear such things.

“Well, I too, think that you’re lovely.” He offered the smiling girl.

Suddenly, he felt two arms wrap around his waist. It took a moment for him to realise that he was being hugged, it had been so long. Again, he felt a warmness invade his stomach and he gave her a small hug back.

Reluctantly, he pulled away. “Goodnight Kat.” He gave her a small nod.

“Goodnight Draco.” She gave him one last genuine grin before disappearing into the dorm.

Draco turned on his heel, making his way slowly towards the Slytherin dungeons. It was probably past curfew, but for once he found that he really didn’t care.

As he walked down the steps lost in a whirl of his own thoughts, he realised that was the first time in a really first time he’d felt anything other that sadness.

He was content.

….

The next day brought an array of trails and tribulations.

He’d at first managed to get into a spectacular row with Pansy. It was on nothing that particularly peaked his interest. She’d been annoyed at the lack of attention he’d given herself and the other Slytherins that morning and the previous evening. Personally, he thought it a pathetic reason to be upset.

They’d been back barley a day. _A day_. Not a week. Nor a fortnight. Definitely not a few months. No. They’d been back for a bloody day.

Merlin! The woman was acting like he’d been ignoring her for all of her life. It was extremely unhealthy if you asked him.

Long story short, Pansy thought it appropriate to scream at him in front of those present in the Slytherin common room. She screeched and clawed like a blooming hyena. He’d seriously feared that the inhumane vibrations she was sporting were going to collapse the dungeons in on them. No kidding. He could swear he saw cracks forming in the edges of the ceiling.

Draco Lucius Malfoy. Cause of death: suffocation by rubble, aided by a hyena’s screech. Draco mused, he had to admit, it had a nice ring to it. Much better than the AK he was sure to get after he failed to carry out the Dark Lord’s impossible biddings.

Anyhow, Pansy said a few things, he said a few things. Screams erupted, slaps were thrown. The bitch had managed to claw him right on the cheek. He raised a shaky hand to the wound; he was convinced that she was part cat.

The last thing he’d called her was an _attention seeking whore_ before he flared his robes and swiftly left the common room. Draco Malfoy wasn’t anything if not dramatic. Severus Snape would be jealous.

Pansy glared at him all through transfiguration and he convinced himself that he didn’t care. Because he didn’t! Care, that is.

She sat with Blaise who sent him a few confused looks, which left him with no one else to sit with but Crabbe and Goyle. Not that he minded too much, unbeknownst to most, Crabbe and Goyle were actually pretty decent to be around. Besides, it prevented him from having to sit next to Theo. The man harboured a crush on Draco as big as the Dark Lord’s forehead and believe him it was big. He should know.

Crabbe and Goyle. Well, Vincent and Greg as he supposed he should get used to calling them as they were his friends after all, spent the entire of transfigurations attempting to cheer him up. He’d spent the entire time trying to tell them that he was alright, but they either thought he was fine but still wanted to make him smile, or he wasn’t very convincing. Draco suspected the latter. Still, it was sweet, nevertheless.

After transfiguration, Draco brushed any attempts that Vincent and Greg made for him to join them in the common room. He gave them the pathetic excuse that he needed to do something. And that is how Draco now found himself, sketchbook in hand, sitting under a tree. Alone.

A large part of him knew that he should be spending his time trying to execute the task that the Dark Lord had so graciously set him. But right now, he suspected he cared more about dragon dung than the noseless bastards wishes.

He focused his attention on the drawing in front of him. Draco loved to draw. He’d fallen in love with the art the day his mother had gifted him some parchment and colouring pencils.

The pad and pencils he was using currently were from a muggle art store. He’d overheard Granger in their fourth year expressing how muggle art equipment was much more efficient than wizarding ones. He found the sudden urge to go and invest in some, reasoning that his love for art was far greater than the hate he had for mudbloods.

Draco cringed, imagining his father’s face if he ever found out that not only had his son ventured into muggle London, but he was also using muggle art appliances. He shuddered, silently praying that he’d never have to find out.

Another presence dragged him from his thoughts. Draco turned to face the intruder and found himself looking into big black eyes.

He grinned. “Hello Kat.” He offered the small girl.

A smile as large as space lit up her features making her eyes sparkle. “Hi Draco, whatchya doing?” she asked, curiously peering at his sketchbook.

“Nothing in particular.” He answered, suddenly feeling quite shy. He’d never shown his artwork to anyone.

It wasn't so much that he didn't want to share his artwork more than he was certain that he wasn't very good at it. Art was his sanctuary, it was a place where he could express himself and not be judged. Showing someone... well, that ruined everything.

Kat giggled, “I’m pretty sure you’re doing _something_ I’m a Hufflepuff, not blind.” she told him.

Draco repressed a smile, “I suppose you muggles call it drawing,” he quipped, placing his pencil down gently next to him.

“Everybody calls it drawing, Draco.” Kat spat out through puffs of laughter.

He turned slightly red, “yes well, I guess that’s what I’m doing.” he decided.

“Drawing?”

Draco gave her a sharp nod. Kat beamed. “Please let me have a look.” She asked shifting closer to him. When Draco shifted away, she let out an exasperated breath, “please, please pleaseee.”

Draco shook his head slightly, but he felt his resolve starting to fade. What was it about this girl that made him act so out of character? 

“Please Draco?” She asked again. “I’ll be good, I’ll be very, very good. I promise I won’t laugh or anything, even if they’re bad. Not that you could ever draw anything bad. Please Draco. Please, please, please, plea—”

Draco groaned. “Alright, you annoying little cretin. I’ll show you a few. And I mean a few.” He resolved.

Reluctantly, he scooted a little closer to the girl so that his knee was just touching hers. He opened the page onto a sketch of the lake, long, glowing, and vast. She gasped, a small hand flying towards her mouth.

“Draco, it’s absolutely beautiful. I’ve never see anything more artistically amazing.” She said in complete awe.

 _Artistically amazing_? She just had to be messing with him. They really weren't anything special. Just a few sketches here and there. They mostly reflected his mood more than anything else.

He blushed, “they’re not that good.” he said honestly.

Kat shook her head, with strong force. “Not that good?” she questioned, “Draco, they’re so wonderful.” She proclaimed, slowly turning the pages of his sketchbook, her hand stopped on a portrait of his mother.

“Who is she?”

Draco smiled sadly, “that’s my mother.”

“Is it really?” she asked and Draco nodded. “She’s stunning, you look just like her.” she mused.

Draco shot her a confused look, “most people tell me that I look like my father,” he replied dejectedly.

Kat shot him a contemplative look before sighing, “No, I don’t think so.” She decided, “I’ve seen a picture of your father in one of the wizarding newspapers. You have his nose, jaw, and colour hair. But you have her kind eyes, full lips and I’m very sure that you would’ve had her smile too.”

That made his heart swell. Draco loved his mother more than anything, she had always been the one person that had stuck by him through thick and thin. The _one_ person that made him feel safe, loved, and accepted.

Most people determined him to look that of his father. That didn't particularly please him. As far as he knew, his father was cold and cruel, someone Draco didn't much fancy resembling all that much.

His eyes widened slightly, staring at her in wonder. “She’s not smiling much, is she?” Kat asked.

Draco shook his head.

She hummed, “she looks like all your drawings.”

“And how’s that?” Draco asked curiously.

“Beautifully broken.”

Draco blinked a few times in amazement. Surprised that such an acute statement could come out of such a small girl.

Kat smiled at him in concern, “are you sad, Draco?”

Draco coughed slightly as he attempted to look anywhere but her eyes. He hadn’t been asked that, not for a long time. Many people hadn’t noticed, he doubted that anyone even cared. He gave her a small smile and shook his head hoping it to be an acceptable answer.

Kat put a small hand onto his and squeezed, “I know you’re lying” she started knowingly, “but that’s okay. We all get sad sometimes, but all we need is someone with a bright smile to remind us that we’re not alone.”

Draco looked down at his crossed legs, “I don’t have anyone.” He admitted quietly, more to himself than anyone else.

“Don’t be silly, you have me.” She stated, giving him the warmest smile yet.

Draco blinked a few times, as if he could not believe his ears. He looked shyly at her big beaming smile, and felt for the first time, that she may be right.

“You’re coming to the end of your book.” She carried on, gesturing to his nearly empty sketchbook. “Are you going to get a new one?”

He shook his head. “I don’t think I’ll be able to get a new one for a really long time.” 

The Dark Lord had invaded his home, his family as been ostracized by the Death Eater's. He shivered as he pictured all the barbaric things that could potentially be done to him if he even attempted to buy a new sketchbook.

Draco reasoned that he quite liked his limps intact. Every, last one of them

Kat sighed. “That’s a shame. I hope that when you get a new one, you’ll be able to draw something happy.” and he thought about telling her that was unlikely, but decided against it.

“And why’s that?” he questioned.

“Because now you have me.” She answered simply. “And I’m going to do my best to make you happy.”

If Draco could, he would’ve cried there and then. He didn’t deserve this. He didn’t deserve her kindness nor her companionship. Yet he had it, and he didn’t know what to do with it.

Draco gave her a rare, genuine smile. “Enough of this lovey dovey feelings talk, tell me how you first day of classes are going.”

Her entire face lit up as she passionately went off on a tangent about her first encounter with Professor Snape and that she didn’t think he was as bad as everyone had said. Claiming that all he needed was a mug of hot cocoa and a hug.

Draco could do nothing but laugh and wonder how he got so lucky as to make such a wonderful friend.

….

Draco was tired. He was tired of the lies. He was tired of the fake appearances. But most of all, he was genuinely just really bloody tired.

When he entered the Slytherin common room, he was dismayed to find all eyes on him. He sighed; couldn’t he catch a break?

“Draco oh sweet, sweet Draco.” Pansy spat and Draco wanted to gut her.

Draco rolled his eyes, “what is it that you want that requires my undivided attention?” he asked impatiently.

“We just thought you’d like to know that you are no longer the Slytherin Prince.” She snarled; her pug eyes gleaming. “You’ve been dethroned.” She added for good measure.

He scoffed. If she really thought that would grind his nerves, then she was very much deluded. If fact, this was perfect. Without the pressures of being prince he’d be able to get the attention off him for a change.

“Is that supposed to upset me?” he narrowed his eyes at her. “if you hadn’t noticed, I couldn’t care less.” His lips curled into a sneer as he watched her waver, “now if we’re quite done, I’d like to go to bed.”

“That’s it?” she exclaimed, her face going red. “I dethrone you and you brush it off like it’s nothing?” she growled at him.

It all seemed to be a waste of his time. He felt long for all the things he could be doing at this very moment, if only he didn't have to listen to Pansy act like a complete and utter bitch to be frank.

He sighed, he needed to wrap this up. The sooner, the better

Draco sighed with boredom, “yes, yes Pansy dearest we’ve established that I don’t care. Now if you could just move out of my way, that would be ever so helpful.” He drawled as he tried to move past her.

Pansy shook her head, continuing to block his path, “you don’t care? You don’t care?” she repeated hysterically and Draco could swear that they were going around in circles.

Draco said nothing, instead he optioned to raise his brow in acknowledgement.

“Why don’t you care Draco?” she screamed. “Ever since we’ve been back, you’ve done nothing but not care.” Draco opened his mouth to protest but was abruptly cut off. “And don’t give me some bullshit of us only being back for two days. I know you Draco Malfoy. I know every action you make before you make it. I know what you think before you think it.” She hissed.

His eyes widened slightly, “that would be amusing if it wasn’t terribly creepy.” he joked again.

“Stop with the jokes, you fucking git!” her eyes were alive with tears. “I _know_ there’s something wrong. Please Draco just tell me what’s wrong, I’m your best friend.” She pleaded and what was left of Draco’s heart broke for her.

Okay, so maybe she wasn't the bitch in this situation. Draco was the bitch. He was very much the bitch.

His eyes softened considerably as he put a hesitant hand on her shoulder. “I’m okay Pans, really I’m okay.” he tried to reassure her, _try_ being the key word here.

She opened her arms, hugging him close whilst she sobbed into his chest. “You’re not. You’re not. You’re not.” She droned deliriously.

Draco let her go, “You’re right, I’m not.” He sighed in defeat, “but I have to be.” he sighed out.

Everything would be okay in the end. He had to think that. He had to believe that was true, for it wasn't the end if everything wasn't okay.

“I can help you Draco, please let me help you.”

He shook his head, “this is my burden and mine to bare alone. I love you Pans; I really do.” He took a large gulp of air, “but I need some time to myself. I need to be alone.” he said with finality.

She stared at him with pure disbelief before running out of the Slytherin common room and into her dorm.

Draco almost let out a sob of his own, before ignoring the crowd that had gathered around them and made his way towards his own dorm.

He promptly ignored any attempt of conversation from Blaise or Theo as he got himself ready for bed. He felt awful. He hadn’t realised that’s why Pansy was upset, that she cared so much about him.

He had done what was necessary.

He’d realised in that moment how much he loved his best friend, and how much she loved him. It was easier thinking that she’d never deceive her parents in favour of helping him through these difficult times.

What if she agreed with him and renounced the Dark Lord? Draco had to carry out his tasks, he had to play the part. If he didn’t, he’d have his parents deaths on his hands. Pansy didn’t have such a burden. If she wanted to renounce him, then she could really do it. And then what? She had no one to go to, nowhere to run. She’d be dead in a matter of days.

Draco gulped. He had to do this, he had to push her away. He had no choice. He had to protect her, he loved her. And love was weakness.

….

Draco sat alone at the Slytherin table.

Pansy and Blaise kept understandingly away from him, and he’d avoided Vincent, Greg, and Theo like the plague.

He munched half-heartedly on his buttered toast when he felt a small tap on his shoulder. He turned around swiftly to find a smiling Kat.

“Hi Draco!” she beamed excitedly.

Draco’s eyes widened as the chatting in the Great Hall came to an abrupt stop, everyone’s eyes were on them.

He coughed, “what are you doing here?” he asked, shamefully embarrassed of everyone looking at them.

A long time ago he would've loved this. He would've craved the attention, basked in it even. But that wasn't the case anymore. No, now he hated it.

It made him paranoid, double checking his every move. He couldn't eat, he couldn't sleep. It were if the attention were an ocean, and he was slowly and painfully drowning in it.

Her face fell slightly, “I came to see you.” She pouted. “Aren’t you happy to see me?”

Draco’s eyes softened. “Of course I’m happy to see you, I was just a bit surprised that’s all.” he admitted quickly, not wanting to upset the girl further.

Kat nodded before she grinned widely. “I knew I could make you happy.” She cheered before sitting next to him.

The Slytherin’s as well as the rest of the students stared at them in shook. He didn’t blame them, for the little girl next to him was making history before their very eyes. Never, in the whole of Hogwarts, had a Hufflepuff sat at the Slytherin table.

“I brought you something.” She said shyly, snapping him from his thoughts.

He gave her an amused look, “And what _exactly_ did you bring me?” he questioned merrily

She clapped her hands excitedly before picking up a large gift bag from the floor and plonking it down to the table.

“What’s this?” Draco asked, feeling quite flustered.

“Open it and find out.” She squealed.

Slowly, Draco opened the gift bag to find six neatly wrapped presents. His eyes widened in shock, what had she done?

“Open them, open them.” She chanted and Draco was absently aware that everyone’s eyes was still one them.

With a sigh, Draco ripped open one of the presents to find a large black sketchbook. He gasped, a hand flying up to cover his mouth.

“Kat, I don’t know what to say—”

“Don’t say anything, open the rest. Open the rest!” she squealed.

Draco opened the rest of the presents to find a pack of art pencils, a watercolour pallet, a pack of coloured pencils, an easel, and a canvas. He was in complete shook and he had to blink discreetly to prevent tears from falling.

“Do you like them?” a hesitant voice asked.

How could he not like them? How could he honestly not like them?

This girl had only known him for just over two days, and already she was buying him gifts, doing all that was in her power to make him smile. It was kindness that he shouldn't have and quite honestly, a kindness that he didn't deserve.

Draco turned to face the beautiful, kind girl. “Do I like them?” he asked giving her the biggest smile he could muster. “ _Do I like them?_ ” he repeated for good measure.

The girl watched him eagerly, “Well that is what I asked, wasn’t it?” she exclaimed.

He laughed, “don’t get cheeky with me.” He shot her a sincere look, “I absolutely love them. They’re the best gifts that I’ve ever received.” he said honestly, too shocked to say much more.

Kat huffed, “that can’t be true.” She complained.

“And why’s that?” he asked in amusement.

“Because I’m sure you’ve gotten lots of gifts before that are much better than mine.”

Draco shook his head, “you’re right, I have gotten lots of gifts before.” He started and her face fell. “But I have never gotten any gifts as special as the ones you’ve brought me. Thank you. Thank you so much.”

Kat beamed before bringing him into a hug that he returned. Draco’s eyes met Potters from across the hall. They were a mixture of bafflement and surprise. Although once he’d noticed Draco looking at him, they flashed with annoyance and dislike. So, he guessed Potter hadn’t forgotten the small incident on the train from a few days ago.

A stern cough erupted from above him and Draco pulled away from Kat.

“Mr Malfoy.” Snape characteristically drawled. “If you wouldn’t mind, I’d like to have a moment alone with you outside.”

Ah Snape. Severus Snape, the current greasy, haired git that Draco had been trying so desperately hard to avoid. Was Snape blind? Or did he have to charm 'Fuck off Snape!' onto his forehead?

Seriously, the guy couldn't take a hint. Draco wasn't interesting. Go an bother someone who gave a damn.

Draco rolled his eyes, “can’t you see that I was in the middle of something.” He narrowed his eyes at his godfather.

Snape shook his head, “This isn’t up for discussion.” He snarled before exiting the hall in a fit of robes, gesturing for Draco to follow.

Draco huffed as he started to put his gifts back in the bag.

“Are you in trouble?” a meek voice asked.

“Why would I be?” he asked Kat.

She sighed, “because I’m siting here.” she gestured to herself sadly.

He shook his head and sent the girl a reassuring look, “there’s nothing wrong with you sitting here. Old Severus probably just wants to talk to me about potions or something.” the _or something_ being heavily implied.

Draco knew exactly what Severus wanted, he wasn't exactly subtle. He'd been trailing Draco ever since he'd been back at Hogwarts. It was all very peculiar.

Kat’s eyes glossed over and her lower lip wobbled, “Are you sure?” she wavered.

“Certain.” He assured her. “Well, why don’t you go back to the Hufflepuff table. I probably wont be returning anytime soon.” He offered and she nodded.

“Okay Draco.” She agreed pulling him into one last hug. “I hope you’re not sad anymore and that you’ll draw something happy.” She whispered before running back to the Hufflepuff table. Draco smiled softly to himself, before retreating towards the doors of the Great Hall.

….

“What do you think you’re doing?” a voice sneered before he was pushed abruptly against a wall.

Well, this was a warm welcome. “Nice to see you too, Uncle Sev.” He quipped and Severus growled.

“You will not call me that here, do you understand boy?” Draco huffed, but nodded, nevertheless.

Touchy. Touchy. Touchy. Here he was trying to make amicable conversation with his godfather, and he was acting as if Draco had been the one to start the blooming conversation in the first place.

It was rude. Just so very rude.

Draco clicked his tongue, “So are you planning on releasing me anytime soon?” he asked.

Severus pushed into him harder, “I’ll release you after you’ve answered my question.” he stated with authority.

He looked at Severus pointedly, “And that is?” If he thought about it, messing with old Severus was actually quite fun. A much more efficient way to spend his time then the moping he had calendered in for the day.

“What. Do. You. Think. You’re. Doing?” he spat.

Was he blind or just stupid? “Obviously, I was having a lovely breakfast with my new Hufflepuff friend before you rudely interrupted.”

Severus snarled. “Don’t humour me, you idiot. What do you think your father will do when he finds out that you’ve been off gallivanting with a Hufflepuff who I may add is a mudblood, as well as accepting filthy muggle gifts. What an earth would the Dark Lord say?”

Draco looked his uncle dead in the eye, “well” he started, “I wasn’t planning on telling them, so unless you’re stupid enough to say anything, I think I’ll be okay.” He mused.

“You insolent child. And what if the Slytherins were to say anything to their parents?”

Then... there was a little bit of a problem

Draco lifted his chin up proudly, “the Slytherins are loyal to me.” he tried to act as sure as possible, but it was hard. 

Maybe on the outside he appeared calm, but on the inside, on the inside... well, he'd rather not say.

“Yes, until they’re not.” Severus pointed out.

He shook his head, “Well, then I’ll figure that out if it comes to it.”

Severus sighed defeatedly before releasing him. “When did you become so reckless?” he commented showing as much emotion as Severus Snape could possibly manage.

“When I stopped caring.” Draco answered blankly, before pushing off the wall and walking towards the dungeons, leaving a worried Severus in his wake.

…..

Draco couldn’t sleep.

Between Goyle’s insistent snoring and Blaise’s muffled cries, there was no hope for him. With an annoyed sigh, he pushed himself off his bed and picked up his new sketchbook and pencils. Carefully, Draco walked out of the dorm, he’d might as well do something productive.

When he’d reached his destination, he sat down cautiously. The Great Lake lay silently before him, reflecting the multitude of stars that lit up the nights sky.

Draco opened up his sketchbook, basking in the new smell. It was divine.

Draw something happy he thought. Draw something happy. He could do that. It wasn’t that hard. Not really. All he had to do was think happy thoughts and his creative side would do the rest.

Draco put his pencil to the soft parchment, willing himself to draw something. Anything. It had to be happy not sad. Be full of emotion, not void. He let out a harsh cry. Why wasn’t it working? Why was he so messed up?

“Malfoy?” a deep voice asked and Draco whipped his head round in alarm.

Potter. Of course, it was. Stupid Potter. With his stupid hair, stupid glasses, and stupid green eyes. Stupid perfect Potter.

Draco stared at him for several seconds. His black curls were messier than usual. His eyes were greener and brighter then he’d ever seen them. His oversized pyjamas hung effortlessly to his golden skin which glowed in the moonlight. How the hell did Potter manage to still look so good this late into the evening?

He bit back a scoff. It was only natural that the boy who lived to be a pain in Draco’s ass looked like a damn god, whereas Draco was sure that he looked like a shrivelled shrimp.

Draco looked at him for a few moments later before he fixed his gaze onto the lake in front of him. He had nothing to say.

“What are you doing here?” Potter tried again and Draco ignored him.

Potter huffed. “For fucks sake Malfoy. I’m speaking to you.” Really? Draco mused. He hadn’t bloody well noticed.

“Are you really going to ignore me?” Yes, and yes and let Draco think about it…Yes.

Potter glared at him, “real mature of you, Malfoy.”

Draco fixed his eyes back onto his sketchbook in an attempt to block out Potter’s existence.

“What’s you’re problem?” he accused, and Draco wanted to scream that it was none of his damn business. Instead he kept his eyes firmly fixed on his book.

Except from the fact that a madman is trying to kill himself and his family. That he’s being given a task to kill Dumbledore dearest. That he needs to push all his friends away in order to protect them. That he hadn’t realised how much his friends cared for him before it was too late. That he’s realised what a complete bigoted imbecile he was and wants to change but can’t because it’s not his duty. And…you. Then nothing, nothing at all.

“Oh, is that your new sketchbook?” he queried, scooting closer to Draco. Nosey asshat. “We all saw your new little Hufflepuff friend gift it to you at lunch.”

He paused as if waiting for Draco to respond. Fat chance that was going to happen. “I swear to Merlin Malfoy if you’ve done anything to her, I’ll end you.” He spat and Draco could feel a slight anger start to boil beneath his skin.

“I know you’re up to something Malfoy. I know you’ve done something to that girl. What, were your cronies not good enough that you had to settle for an innocent girl?” Potter hissed.

Potter was treading on deep waters now. It was one thing to insult Draco on his own. But to bring his friends into it? That was an all time low.

“It’s obvious that you want to do something awful to her. What would Draco sodding Malfoy want with a Muggleborn first year? You won’t get away with it, you git. I’ll make sure of it.” _Wow, Draco was shaking in his designer shoes._

“You’re nothing but Death Eater scum.” He insulted and Draco abruptly slammed his book shut.

Without a word, he stood up and walked away. He didn’t need to listen to this bullshit. Draco felt a deep satisfaction to be the one to leave Potter alone. It was petty, but he didn’t care.

As he made his way back to the Slytherin dungeons cautiously so he wouldn’t get caught, he decided that Potter _definitely_ wasn’t over the whole ‘I stepped on your nose and tired to send you back to London’ incident.


	2. Chapter Two.

Potter was following him.

Couldn’t a man plan an assassination in peace around here? It had been a day. A day since the ‘Potter tried to provoke him by using first year insults’ incident. Draco cringed. He’d have to work on the name later.   
Didn’t Potter realise that it was rude to follow his alders? If Draco had to guess, and a guess it was because he didn’t know. He’d guess that Potter was 56 days younger than him. Not that exactly, because he definitely didn’t _know_. 

Anyways, since Draco was obviously older, Potter should have the upmost respect for him. Didn’t he realise that what he was doing was wrong? Hadn’t his parents ever taught him that it was rude to follow those older than him? Oh…wait.

Draco was currently in potions, pretending not to feel Potter’s eyes burning a hole into the side of his head. How rude. Didn’t Potter realise that Draco was under a lot of stress. Doing the biddings of a madman does that to a person. Let’s not even go as far as to mention Draco’s own self-loathing, or else he’d really be opening a can of worms.

Oops. It appears the can has opened. 

Draco didn’t particularly like himself. Sure, he thought he was decent looking. He hair was so blond it was almost white, sprawled neatly across his head. His jaw was strong, lips red and pouted. His eyes were pools of mercury silver. Okay, he was attractive. Some may even go as far as to say drop dead gorgeous. Fine, Draco was ‘some’ but his opinion was the only one that counted. Anyhow, it helped that Draco was always right.

Well…most of the time. Okay, some of the time. So maybe there was that one time that he willingly took the dark mark, hoping to earn his father’s approval. There was also that time when he endlessly bullied Potter and his minions, not to mention half of Hufflepuff house. He’s changed. He likes Hufflepuff now. Well, one of them at least. Anyways, there was also that one time when he agreed to assassinate his Headmaster for the Dark Lord, even though he really didn’t want to.

Oh wait…that was right now.

Okay, so all the evidence may point towards Draco not always being right. Well he was only human! Or was he? He’d never really figured out if having magic meant that he was less than human. All he knows is that he isn’t as infallible as the Great Merlin. We can’t all be Perfect Potter.

Stupid Potter, Stupid Potter and his stupid scar, and his stupid hair and his stupid—

“Draco!” Greg nudged him hard in the arm.

“Ouch! You Buffon. Be careful, my bones are _delicate_.” He hissed.

Greg snorted. “Slughorn’s assigning partners and you’ve already missed your name being called.”

Draco sighed. Personally, he thought assigned partners were stupid, but what did he know?

“Who am I partnered with?” he asked absently, as he looked around the classroom. Judging by the red-faced Weasel and the empty space next to him, Draco made an educated guess.

Greg sent him an apologetic glance as he gathered up his things and made his way towards the Weasel. Both he and Potter shot daggers at him as he sat down. Great, it must be his lucky day. Not only did he have one grumpy Gryffindor, but he had two. Bloody two for one. Maybe Dumbledore will fall down the stairs and break his neck, then he’d really be having a lucky day. For all the Dark Lord knew, Draco could’ve ‘pushed’ him. There, job done. Finished. Finada. Dumbledore no more!

“Keep to your side of the desk.” The Weasel snarled.

Draco nodded. “Wouldn’t dream of venturing over to your domain, on the odd chance I’d catch something.” He spat.

“Well, wouldn’t that be nice.” He sneered.

“Just wouldn’t it.” Draco said a little to honestly and Potter gave him an odd glance which he promptly ignored.

Draco focused on keeping his head down, refusing to rise to Weasley’s taunts and jabs. A year ago, he would’ve been more than happy to shoot a few insults right back at Weasley. Hell, he’d probably had been the one to start the insults. But he was different now. Perhaps it was partly because he’d grown up and realised that there were more important things than taunting and bullying your classmates. Mainly, it was because Draco was already a terrible person, he didn’t need to succumb to things that would make him worse.

Once the hour was almost up, Draco made it his mission to pack away his things and get away from Weasley and Potter as quickly as possible. Just as he was about to escape to freedom, a wave of a hand stopped him in his tracks.

“Not so fast.” Slughorn boomed, and Draco wanted to hex the man where he stood. “I have yet to announce the project that you and your assigned partners will have to complete.” Draco cringed looking between his assigned partner and the twinkle in Slughorn’s eyes.

Son of a bitch. If anyone dared to tell Draco that this manipulative, cunning, old bag wasn’t a proper Slytherin, then they could quite literally suck his dick. Unless they were Theo, he did NOT want him to suck his dick anytime soon.

“You will choose one of the designated potions that can be found in your study books, once you have chosen, you will have until the end of the Christmas term to complete it.” Draco inwardly groaned. Three months. Three months in the Weasel’s company. That’s not even mentioning having him as a work partner in class for the whole year. Could his life get any worse?

“This potion counts as one quarter of your final grade for this year.” Well it looked like things could get worse. Okay, Draco was sorry. He apologises to whatever God he’s seemed to have upset. He’s sorry. 

Sulkily, Draco began to make his way towards the door. “Hold on!” Slughorn’s chirper voice ordered. Draco groaned before turning back round, “there will be _no_ changing partners.” He stated with finality and the last shred of hope Draco had, smashed into little pieces.

Before he gave into his urges to flip Slughorn the bird, he rushed out of the potions classroom.

“Malfoy!” a loud voice yelled and Draco ignored it because he was _not_ in the mood.

“Malfoy!” the voice yelled again, louder, and angrier this time. Draco continued to go on his merry little way.

A heavy hand clamped onto his shoulder, “stop ignoring me Ferret.” Weasley’s growled and Draco sighed.

Reluctantly, he turned around, “what do you want Weasley?” he asked with disinterest.

“When are we going to work on our project?” he questioned and Draco grimaced. If looks could kill, Weasley would be six feet under by now. Draco inwardly smiled at the correct use of the muggle phrasing that Kat had taught him earlier. Anyways, Draco had just managed to forget the project he’d been told of just moments ago, and now Weasley was idiotic enough to bring it up again. What was with all the rude Gryffindor's today?

“Whenever I’m free.” He answered blandly.

Weasley huffed in annoyance, “and when is that?” he prodded and the ginger haired freak was really starting to test Draco's patience.

“Whenever.”

Weasley groaned. “Listen Ferret and listen closely. I don’t like you; I really don’t like you. But I’m willing to work with you because despite what many people might think, I actually care about my grades.”  
Draco raised an eyebrow with an ounce of newfound respect.

“Why the sudden change?” he asked with genuine interest.

“Since I found out that you won’t get into Auror training if you’re shite at potions.” He answered honestly.

“Acceptable.” Draco hummed and Weasley nodded.

Draco sighed dramatically, “Fine Weasley, you win. I’m free on Thursday. Meet me outside the potions classroom at seven, not a moment before or after. Am I clear?”

“Whatever, Malfoy.” Weasley snarled before retreating towards where Potter and the mudblo— Granger were waiting.

Potter sent him a curious glance, which Draco ignored as he spun on his heel and headed towards the Great Hall for lunch.

….

Draco hated cabinets.

Whoever thought that it was a great idea to make a vanishing cabinet should be publicly shunned. How in Merlin’s name did the psychotic Lord expect Draco to fix a however bloody old cabinet and let the Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Let’s not forget the whole assassinating his Headmaster thing he had going on as well.

Draco stared hard at the cabinet. He could swear it was mocking him. He could feel it taunting him. Draco stepped closer towards the cabinet to get a better look. Well it was definitely wood, quite old and wait… what was that?

He edged closer toward it. Was that an upwards curve in the middle of the wood? He took a closer look. Was. The. Cabinet. Laughing. At. Him? Draco shook his head, of course not. He was being an idiot, cabinets didn’t laugh.

But then again, the cabinet had already mocked him and taunted him, who’s to say that it wasn’t laughing at him? Draco took another look. Merlin! It really was laughing at him. The dent wasn’t just a smile. No, it was a full-on throaty laugh. There was no way on this goddamn planet that it was just a smile. A dent that big couldn’t be anything less than a laugh. He was sure of it.

Wait. He took a closer look at it. But maybe, it was a snarl. Yes, he mused. It did remind him quite a bit of a snarl. He was sure of it. It couldn’t be a laugh because it was a snarl.  
No, but wait. He peered even closer. It was a smirk. He was sure of it. A long, nasty smirk. Well, how rude!

Wait, hold on. It looked a bit like…

Oh god. Draco abruptly turned away from the cabinet. This room was messing with his head. He did _not_ just say that a dent was a smirk. He was going barmy. Crazy. He was loonier than Luna Lovegood.

He had to get out of here. Perhaps come back another day with Vincent and Greg as lookouts. Partially so they could be on the watch for any curious do-gooders. Mainly because at least they’d be there to find him if all the crazy ate his brain.

That sounded like a good plan Draco decided, before he spun on his heel and got the hell out of there.

….

Draco was back at the lake.

For the second night in a row, Draco found himself crossed leg, sketchbook in hand, staring at the vast lake.

For the second night in a row, he hadn’t been able to draw anything. He had a friend. A new sketchbook and art supplies. Why wasn’t he happy? Why couldn’t he draw?

“Hullo Malfoy.” A familiar voice spoke. Draco turned his head to face Potter. Green eyes met grey.

Draco stayed like that for several seconds, contently enjoying the moment. Then he blinked, coming to his senses. _Fuck no_. He thought before packing away his things and walking back to the castle without a word.

He wasn’t going to be subjected to the ‘Potter tried to provoke him using first year insults’ incident part two. Not a-bloody-gain.

….

Potter came back the next night.

Draco was attempting to put pencil to parchment yet again without much success. It was a travesty. A catastrophe. How dare the artistic side of his brain refuse to generate any ideas that weren’t related to death, blood, gore, darkness, death, anger, pain, and oh yes did he mention death?

He was just about to give up and throw a rather large rock into the late when Potter plumped down next to him.

Draco stared at him hoping that if stared long enough then maybe he could stare Potter straight out existence. He reasoned that the odds probably weren’t in his favour, but he was willing to try. Merlin! He sounded like a Hufflepuff. He was definitely spending too much time with Kat. Father would be so disappointed.

On second thoughts…

Several minutes later and Draco realised that no matter how much he wished it, Potter was here to stay. Reluctantly, Draco collected his artwork and got ready to leave. Like hell was he staring here with ‘I take pleasure in insulting Draco Malfoy’ Potter. He stood up quickly ready to leave when a voice stopped him in his tracks.

“Wait!” Potter half-shouted, half-pleaded.

Draco turned around and raised a brow in response.

“You don’t have to leave.” He stated and Draco gave him a _do you really think I want to stay here with you_? kind of look.

Potter snorted. “No Malfoy. I’m sure you don’t want to stay here alone with me.” he said almost sarcastically and Draco was less offended than he was scared.

Draco blinked, scrunching his face, utterly confused. Had he said that out loud?

Okay, so Potter wasn't only the Boy Who Lived. He could now read bloody minds? The Dark Lord's chances had suddenly become a whole lot slimmer.

“Don’t worry, you didn’t say anything out loud. You’re just really easy to read.” Draco scoffed. If he was that easy to read then the Dark Lord would’ve realised that he wanted nothing more than to subject him to a painful death.

Alas, Draco was phenomenal at covering up his feelings and that is why he was still alive listening to Potter’s embarrassing babbling.

“Please. Stay.” Potter asked and Draco sighed and sat back down.

They sat in peaceful silence for a while with Draco absently aware of the warm heat rubbing off Potter. It was quite distracting.

“I’m sorry.” Potter said after a while and Draco raised a brow at him. “For what I said to you a few days ago.” He carried on. “You hadn’t initiated anything and I just started on you. It wasn’t right so um erm sorry.” He tried again and Draco nodded in acceptance.

There was no point arguing or dismissing a person like Potter. It would only get Draco into more trouble than he was already in, and he really didn't need the attention at the moment.

“You don’t talk much do you Malfoy?” Potter asked and Draco answered him by looking back down at his sketchbook. “It’s weird, not like you.” He commented.

Draco wanted to chuckle. Wasn’t it obvious that Potter didn’t know him anymore? Not really. Nobody did.

They lapsed into another round of silence. Draco decided that he still didn’t like Potter very much. In fact, he didn’t like him at all. But that was okay, he was certain that Potter didn’t like him very much either.

They were content.

Content to remain in the others presence. The silence engulfing them like a warm, safe blanket.

Draco smiled slightly as he put his pencil to parchment for the first time in days. He finally knew what to draw. Something that made him happy.

So, he sat there, drawing until the sun came up. Potter never left his side.

….

Draco was making his way to the potions classroom the next day to meet Weasley when he was pulled into a surprise attack. He laughed pulling his attacker closer.

“That’s quite the surprise you gave me there." That was an understatement, he was still attempting to catch his heart that had conveniently ventured into his mouth.

Kat smiled at him sheepishly. “I’m sorry. I just missed you.” she told him, and Draco reasoned that she should never be sorry for that.

Draco felt his insides heat up, “You saw me yesterday.” He pointed out rationally, reasoning that maybe they both had a few attachment issues.

She shook her head. “Don’t be silly Draco, you saw me yesterday morning. That was over twenty-four hours ago.” She commented and Draco found that he couldn’t fault her logic.

It looked as if Kat was here to stay. He couldn't say that he minded all that much, it had been a long time since he'd accepted any proper company.

In fact, it was kind of nice that he had somewhat of a friend who saw past his thoughts, or even didn't acknowledge his faults. No, she just saw him. Just _Draco_. Whoever that may be.

“Would you like to walk me to the potions classroom?” he asked.

Kat nodded enthusiastically. “Of course, I do.” Well, he couldn't very much argue with that now, could he?

Draco chuckled. “Then lead the way, fair maiden.” He joked, offering her a little bow as they fell into a comfortable silence.

“So, have you made any new friends?” he asked her casually, several moments later.

Her face fell. “I thought I had, but they weren’t very nice.” she told him sadly.

Draco felt a sudden surge of protectiveness. “Why? What did they do?” he questioned.

“They were saying mean things about you, so now I avoid them.”

He suddenly felt extremely guilty. This was all his fault. Kat was such a lovely young girl and she deserved an abundance of friends. She’d decided to befriend a mean, horrible Death Eater and now had hardly any friends her own age.

He took a deep breath, “Kat I’m very grateful that you like me enough to distance yourself from your friends.” He started, “but you’re a great person and you deserve to share your friendship with so many others, not just me.”

Kat shook her head. “I thought that they were nice before they started saying mean things about you. But you’re my best friend in the whole entire world, if they don’t like you then I don’t like them.” She stated firmly.

Draco smiled softly. He was happy that the girl felt so strongly about him, over the past few days she’d become very special to him. Like the little sister he’d never had. Nevertheless, he couldn’t let her put any potential friendships on the line for him. After all, he’d be leaving in two years and she’d be staying for the next five. Of course, he’d write her, but it wasn’t the same as being with her in person.

Draco saw the familiar orange of Weasley’s head as they made it outside the potions classroom. He shot Weasley a nod before crouching down so that he was the same height as Kat.

“I’ll tell you what.” He said calmly, “tomorrow evening, you pick some girls and boys if you want, from your year that you like the best.” If the ignorant kids didn't want to make friends with Kat, then he'd make them for her.

“Why?” she questioned.

He laughed, “I was just getting to that. Once you’ve selected the best, bring them outside the Slytherin dorms. Do you remember where they are?” he asked and she nodded.

“Good.” He carried on. “Make sure you’re there at exactly seven sharp and I’ll be there to greet you all.”

“What are you going to do?” she accused lightly.

Draco grinned. “I’m going to show them that I’m not the big, bad evil Slytherin that they think I am. And maybe if they understand that then they’d want to be your friend, and you’d want to be theirs.” He finished.

Kat’s eyes widened, shining with fresh tears. “You’ll help me make some friends?”

Why wouldn't he help her make friends. She seemed to be in a state of disbelief, so vulnerable. Draco felt almost enraged as he figured that someone must've done something to her. Someone who had made sure that friends hadn't been an option for her.

Well, that was the case anymore. He'd personally make sure that Kat was loved and appreciated in the way that she so desperately deserved.

He nodded. “Of course, I will. Why are you crying?” he asked wiping away her tears.

“Because you’re the most amazing best friend that I could ever ask for.” She cried pulling him into another hug.

Draco held her tight. “Well you’re the kindest, sweetest most beautiful person I’ve ever met, and I’m happy to call you my best friend.” He answered.

“I make you happy?” she questioned shyly, pulling away.

“You make me happy.” He said sincerely because she did. “Now, I have to work on my potions project, so why don’t you go back to the Hufflepuff dorms and I’ll see you tomorrow?” he offered.

Kat nodded. “Alright, I’ll see you tomorrow Draco.” She grinned before speeding off down the corridor.

Draco stood up to face the baffled eyes of Ronald Weasley. “Not a word.” Draco threatened and Weasley nodded before they made their way into the classroom.

….

“The essence of _what_?” Weasley asked hysterically and Draco suppressed an eyeroll.

He tutted, “The essence of Insanity.” Draco answered calmly. 

To think that Draco could be spending his evening lounging in his dorm. Instead he was stuck here trying to make an idiot Gryffindor see sense.

It was an impossible task.

“And how do you suppose we test if the potion works? Because I’m sure as hell not drinking it.” Weasley grimaced.

His reaction was quite funny actually. Weasley truly believed that he had a say in the matter. It was both unfortunate for him and so terribly amusing for Draco.

“Of course, you’re drinking it.” Draco answered and Weasley sent him a death glare. “Don’t look so pale, Weasley. This is not a potion without an antidote and even if there wasn’t one, depending on the potency of the potion, we can manipulate it’s timings and effects.”

“Meaning?”

A dutterhead. He was trying to reason with a complete dutterhead! Draco huffed, “meaning that we can control how long and how much you’ll become insane.” he'd have more a better chance trying to talk to a brick wall.

“This whole idea is insane, Malfoy. Are you sure you haven’t been slipped some of the potion yourself?” he attempted to joke and Draco wanted to cut his tongue out.

“Quite sure, yes. Anyways, this is the hardest and strongest potion on the list. If brewed correctly, we’re guaranteed an O.” he declared in triumph.

Weasley narrowed his eyes. “What makes you think it’ll be brewed correctly?” he asked sceptically.

He was questioning him? The 'I can barely string words together' Weasel was actually questioning Draco's potion making abilities. Draco Lucius Malfoy! Were they talking about the same Draco here, because he obviously hadn't meant him.

Did Weasley have a death wish or something?

Draco finally smirked. “Because I’m helping make it.” He commented smugly.

Weasley gave Draco a slight smile, “You know what Malfoy, I still hate your guts, but I think we’ll work together just fine.” he told him, and Draco was surprised at that.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “is that right?” he mused.

“Definitely, you’ve gone soft.”

Draco glared at him. “I assure you I haven’t gone _soft_.” He spat out the word as if it were poison.

Weasley laughed. “Don’t lie to me, I saw how nice you were to that little girl you were with.” he said and Draco realised that he must be referencing Kat. Stupid adorable little Hufflepuff, tearing down the reputation that he had tried so hard to build up.

He shrugged. “Maybe I’ve always been nice to my friends, you’ve just never taken the time to notice.” He bit back defiantly.

“Touché.” Weasley supplied and an awkward silence befell them.

“Let’s start on the potion.” Draco suggested and Weasley nodded, both knowing the sooner they started, the better.

….

It had just gone nine when he got back to his dorm. Draco lay sprawled out on his bed, too late to be in the common room, but to early to go to the lake.

A rustle from outside his bed curtains caught his attention. Oh, for Merlin sake, what now? He thought grumpily.

Pansy and Blaise’s heads both poked through the curtain.

“What do you two want?” Draco impatiently sighed.

Pansy shook her head, “nothing.” She said before lying down next to Draco, Blaise sitting by their feet.

It was weird, he decided, sitting here with the two of them. It had been months since the three of them had all been together like this, but having them here was something that he hadn't realised he'd needed.

He had spent so much time by himself. He'd spent so long thinking that he was alone. It was nice to think that they were there for him. That they understood him. Even though deep down he knew that they didn't. He was certain that they never would.

“I don’t want to talk.” He mumbled.

Blaise smiled. “We don’t either.” He offered and Draco nodded.

They fell into a comfortable silence. With his two best friends pressed next to him, Draco felt safe. Something he hadn’t felt in a really long time.

….

Potter was already at the lake when he arrived.

Draco gave him a small nod before sitting next to him and opening up his sketchbook. Potter didn’t speak like he normally did, instead he looked out onto the lake as if deep in thought. Draco was itching to ask him why the hell he was so quiet, but he decided against it. He reasoned that he didn’t much like Potter, so he shouldn’t care.

Draco smiled; he was content with that plan.

He continued to sketch. His messed-up attempt at happiness. It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t normal, but it was his.

“Thank you.” Potter said after a while.

Draco looked at him confused, “for being here.” Potter answered, before looking back upon the lake.

Draco spent the rest of the night transfixed onto his drawing, silently, desperately trying to understand what Potter had meant.

Potter stayed until the sun came up.

….

It was the next day and Draco was surrounded by a bunch of Hufflepuff first years. Who’s idea was this again? Oh right, his.

“Well, my mummy says your daddy is a Death Eater.” One of the girls cried and Draco couldn’t help but realise that she looked a bit like a pig.

Draco was starting to second guess his sudden outburst of kindness. Kat had done exactly as he’d asked, ushering a herd of Hufflepuff's to meet him outside the Slytherin dungeons. They were all looking at him as though he were some kind of disease. A Disease? Draco. Lucius. Malfoy. Diseased! The only disease he had was his infectious charm and devastating looks. Insolent little gits.

“Don’t say that word.” Kat hissed at the piglet.

Draco shook his head. “No, it’s fine. My father isn’t the greatest man. I love him, yes, but I don’t much care for him.” He hoped that answer was enough for the little creatures. He didn't much fancy going into great detail regarding his father and his less than absmayl relationship.

A boy glared in question, and Draco decided that he hated him.

“How can you love him but not care for him?” A boy accused.

Draco turned to face the inquisitive little menace, “quite simply actually. He is my father so I love him but he is an obnoxious twat so I don’t stand for what he believes in.” he answered, mentally kicking himself for being so vulnerable. To a bunch of first years, nonetheless.

“How can you love somebody like that?” he narrowly pointed out.

Draco sighed. How could he love somebody like that? A father that took pleasure in murdering innocents. A father who housed the darkest being in wizarding history. A father that hurt him when he misbehaved. A father who chose his Lord over his own son.

How could he love somebody like that?

He was also a father that bathed him when he was young. A father who brought him his first broom. A father that picked him up and kissed away his injuries when he’d get hurt. A father that had tears in his eyes whenever he would hurt him. A father who’d held him when he had nightmares, who brought him chocolate when he was sad. A father that read to him, dressed him, smiled at him.

A father that told him he loved him.

Draco looked at the young boy. “Love is a fickle thing. It’s not so much of me loving the man he has become but holding onto the man he once was. The man who’s cared for me all these years.” He took a deep breath. “That man has always been special to me, someone who I’d deeply admired. Do you understand now?” he asked.

He was surprised to find that not only the boy, but all of them nodded in acceptance.

“I think you’re brave.” A second girl pointed out and Draco blinked at her. “To love someone besides their faults is very courageous.” She said dreamily.

A few of the girls sighed in agreement.

“Well I think you’re stupid.” The boy spat and Draco would’ve hexed him if he didn’t remind him so much of his former self.

“Draco is not stupid.” Kat barked, glaring at the boy.

He shook his head. “Yes, he is. He still loves a man who is a follower of He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named.” he hissed his tone of the verge of becoming vengeful.

“So what?” another girl asked.

The little boy looked up to Draco with wide eyes. “Everybody knows that it’s risky to be involved with an evil man like that. What if his father does something wrong and He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named takes it out on Draco? What if he threatens him with his fathers life?” he questioned and Draco felt the air being knocked out of his lungs.

Kat and the girls were all looking up at the boy in fear. “People do dangerous things for the ones they love.” He concluded and Draco couldn’t speak.

Several moments passed before a small, meek girl coughed. “I think that’s brave and stupid. It’s stupid to be ruled by your emotions, but brave to let them take control.”

Draco looked at her confused. She carried on, “someone stupid would let their emotions guide their every action, but someone brave would renounce everything they believe in to save somebody that they loved. It doesn’t mean that their beliefs or the right thing isn’t important, it just means that they’re human.” He wanted to believe her. He desperately wanted to believe her.

It was true. He was only human. He made mistakes. But that was the problem. He'd made too many mistakes, ones that he couldn't come back from.

She smiled up at Draco, “I think that it’s brave to do all the wrong things, but for all the right reasons.”

Draco couldn’t breathe. Was he brave? No. He decided. He was not. He was a coward; a braver man would’ve never taken the mark in the first place.

Kat laughed. “Well it’s not as if Draco’s silly enough to get himself in a situation like that in the first place. He’d very smart.” She preened.

Draco put on a fake smile. “No, he wouldn’t.” He assured her, lying through his teeth.

The boy smiled. “Kat was right, you’re not a bad person.” He decided.

“I _told_ you so.” Kat bit out.

They all laughed and dissolved into mindless chatter. Draco was watching them contently, joining in when necessary, when Kat came and pulled him into a hug.

“Thank you.” She whispered, “Now we have lots of friends.” Draco couldn’t help but chuckle at the irony. He never thought that he’d see the day when Draco Malfoy was friends with a bunch of Hufflepuff's.

He pulled away from Kat who smiled before joining into the conversation once more. He watched the pure joy light up her features. He grinned, he also never thought that he’d be best friends with one. But as he watched Kat laugh with happiness, he mused that it wasn’t such a bad thing after all.

….

A week later and Draco was pissed.

He was stood in front of the mirror thinking about how he should be preening at his gorgeous looks. To many Draco was a beautiful devil. To Draco, he was a cold, narcissistic, ugly monster.

He couldn’t understand what they saw. His nose was too pointy, his hair was too light. He was too skinny; his eyes were sunken and grey. His foul mouth, twisted beliefs and cruel actions did nothing to complement his looks.

He glanced down at his pale arm; his mistake was staring accusingly back at him. If he thought he was something before, with this brand on his arm; he was virtually nothing.

Anyways, he was attempting to look at anything but his controversial looks. No, instead he was checking to see if he had the words _Hufflepuff Pride_ sprawled across his forehead.

Draco narrowed his eyes searching heavily for the mocking words. Where in Merlin’s name was it? It was hiding, he decided. That had to be it.

It must be spelled so that only Hufflepuff's could see them. It was the only acceptable answer. It was the only solution as to why Draco had a band of devoted Hufflepuff first years, willingly aiding to his every beck and call.

They followed him _everywhere_.

To his classes. To the dungeons. To the Great Hall. To the Quidditch Field. They even thought it proper to follow him to the bloody bathroom!

It was torture. He was seriously considering taking his chances with the Dark Lord and return to the Manor without completing his task.

Okay, maybe he was being a tad dramatic. He had to admit, it was quite nice to have people follow him around. And not because they thought they were up to something, or they wanted to cure or hex him. No, because they actually admired him and thought him a good person. Must be what perfect Potter was used to, he mused.

Speaking about Potter, the git wouldn’t leave him alone. He stared at him during classes, he followed him in the corridors, he glared at him in the Great Hall. It was all very confusing.

During the day Potter acted as if Draco was worthless, as if he were nothing. He laughed at the jabs Weasley threw at him during potions, he smiled when Draco was hexed. He rolled his eyes when Draco spoke, he growled whenever he was around friends.

But during the night, Potter was different. He was kind. His smiles were genuine, his laughs sincere. Every night without fail, Potter would meet Draco at the lake. He would talk to him about his day, he would share jokes with him, Draco knew his favourite subject. Defence against the dark arts.

Draco never said anything. The nights air was full of the sound of Potter. Draco never turned to him. Never nodded at him. He barley acknowledged he was there. Outwardly, that was. Internally, Draco smiled at Potter’s jokes. Mused about his day. Disagreed with his favourite subject. It was peculiar, but Potter’s company was oddly comforting.

He didn’t understand it at all. He didn’t know why Potter was so horrible to him during the day. He didn’t know why Potter treated him like a real person at night.

Draco knew that he should stick up for himself. That he should stop ignoring Potter during their talks. But he couldn’t. Deep down he knew that he deserved it. That Potter had every right to berate him after all the years Draco had antagonized him. He couldn’t talk to Potter during their meetings or even attempt to interact with him. If he did, then he’d be allowing himself a pleasure that he couldn’t accept. He was a Death Eater and Death Eater’s didn’t deserve nice things.

….

“Draco.” A voice called from behind him and Draco walked faster, the voice was oddly familiar. Too familiar.

“Draco!” the voice shouted again and he continued to ignore it.

All he wanted to do was get back to the common room in peace? Was that too much to ask?

“I swear to Merlin Draco I _know_ that you can hear me.” The voice exasperatedly pointed out and Draco stopped in his tracks realising that the person in question wasn’t going to give up.

Obviously, it was.

Draco turned around and met the annoyed stance of Theodore Nott. Great, just great!

He huffed impatiently, “what is it that you want Theo? Do I need to remind you that I’m a very busy man?” he told him.

Ah Theo! The very person that he had been trying avoid ever since he'd step foot into the castle. It wasn't so much that he didn't want to talk to him...

Okay, it was exactly that. Draco really didn't want to talk to him.

Theo rolled his eyes, “Let’s not play this game.” He sighed.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “and what game would that be?” he questioned, he had a sneaky suspicion that they were playing a game right now.

Well, they had to have been if the downright hellish riddles Theo had seemed to have adapted was anything to go by.

“The ‘Snarky responses to prevent having to talk about anything of importance’ game”. Dang it! But Draco loved that game.

Draco scoffed. “That’s an outrageously long name for a game. But I must say, it does sound quite interesting. I’ll have to give it a try one of these days.” He mused.

“Cut the bullshit Draco.” Theo growled.

So, Theo was obviously upset. To be honest, one part of Draco hated that, but the other part, well... that part was tired and wanted him to fuck right off.

“I really don’t appreciate such an aggressive tone. I’ve hardly done anything to warrant such rudeness.” He challenged.

Theo narrowed his eyes, taking a step closer towards him. “That’s the fucking problem Draco. You haven’t done anything!” he accused, and if Draco was secretly planning his death, then so be it.

“And what exactly was I meant to be doing?” he asked.

“Something.” Theo snapped. “Anything!”

Draco took a deep intake of breath, “you’re obviously not able to put together coherent sentences. I’ll speak to you once you’ve learnt better vocabulary than that of a five-year-old.” He snarled before turning to leave.

“There you go again. Ignoring me like you have been since the beginning of the year. Go on then, run away you bloody coward!” Theo spat and Draco turned on his heel.

He was not going to stand for this pure disrespect. No one insulted Draco Malfoy and got away with it. Well, unless you were Potter...

It seemed as though Potter could do whatever he liked to Draco, and he was powerless against him. He didn't know exactly, what it was about Potter that made Draco act like this, but he decided that he didn't really want to find out.

“Ignoring you?” he accused, shooting daggers at him.

Theo nodded. “don’t act dumb with me Draco.”

“I’m not.” he spat defiantly.

He huffed. “Yes, you bloody well are and you know it. We both know the real reason you’ve been ignoring me.” Draco remained silent; his eyes glued to his shoes.

“It’s because of what I said at the end of fifth year. Draco looked away. “Well I’m not taking it back. I like you Draco. I like you a lot and I want you to know it. Hell, I want the entire wizarding world to know it.” Whoa. Whoa. Whoa. Draco was a wizard, not a trophy wife.

Although, he had to admit. He'd be an amazing trophy wife. Just gorgeous. The potential. Oh! The potential.

Draco bit back a laugh, “I don’t think the wizarding world would care for your declaration.”

Theo shrugged. “Maybe, but maybe not. Anyways, please Draco speak to me, give me a chance.” He whispered pleadingly.

Draco shook his head. “I can’t” he simply put.

“What? Do you not like me back or something?” Draco didn’t answer.

Theo sighed. “You have to give me something here.” He was right. Draco did owe him something, but if he were honest, he had nothing to give.

Draco remained silent. “Please Draco. Please just talk to me.” He almost begged.

Draco looked away, his eyes filling with tears. “I’m sorry, I just can’t.” he chocked out before running away like the coward he was.

He couldn’t have Theo. He couldn’t have anyone. Death Eaters didn’t deserve nice things.

….

Draco was late.

He was currently on his way to the potions classroom to meet Weasley. They’d agreed to meet at seven, it was now two minutes past seven.

“Malfoy.” The cold voice stopped him in his tracks. He knew who it was. How could he not recognise the voice that had being rattling inside his head since first year?

Draco turned around and met unkind green eyes. He blinked, lowering his head slightly.

“Are you going to ignore me like you’ve been ignoring me since the beginning of the year?” Potter questioned.

Draco kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground. Of course, he was going to ignore Potter. It was convenient. It was needed.

Potter let out a scoff. “What’s wrong with you Malfoy?” he asked, “why won’t you answer me?” Draco remained silent.

“You’re all good and well to talk to your little Hufflepuff friends. I’ve heard you.” He accused.

Draco shifted slightly; his lips remained firmly shut. He just had to wait it out.

“What’s wrong with me? Why won’t you talk to me.” Because _he didn’t deserve to_ Draco thought silently.

“For fucks sake Malfoy.” Potter’s voice raised in anger. “What the bloody hell are you up to?” he snarled.

Potter edged closer towards him. “I can’t figure you out. Not anymore.” He seethed. “I used to know you so well. I knew what you always ate for breakfast. I knew what friends you had. I knew your favourite hairstyle. I knew that you were a selfish, arrogant, attention-seeking, git.” He looked at Draco expectantly. Draco remained quiet. Potter wasn’t saying anything he didn’t already think or used to do.

“Now you don’t speak unless spoken to. You hardly spend any time with your friends. You’re either in the library or spending time with you Hufflepuff minions. You don’t eat eggs for breakfast anymore.” He spat out.

Draco sighed and attempted to leave, but Potter but a hand on his chest. Draco lifted up his head to meet Potter’s blazing green eyes. “Why don’t you eat eggs for breakfast anymore?” he shouted.

Draco drooped his head back down, his gaze once again focused on his feet. He could see that Potter was hurting, that he needed Draco to say something. To say anything. But he wouldn't. He couldn't.

Potter scoffed. “You know what, you’re not worth it.” He growled. “You’re pathetic.” He spat before pushing past him and continuing down the corridor.

Draco blinked. Potter was right, he was pathetic. He sighed before making his way towards the potions classroom, he was already late.

….

“There you bloody well are!” Weasley exclaimed as Draco entered the classroom. “I thought that your Hufflepuff fan club had kidnapped you of something.” He added.

Draco shook his head, “I can assure you Weasley that I haven’t been kidnapped.” he walked towards the potions station taking over from Weasley. The potion looked remarkably stable. What a pleasant surprise.

“Unfortunately.” Weasley muttered before focusing his gaze on the potion in front of them.

There was a pregnant pause before Weasley sighed thoughtfully. “You’re different Malfoy” he mused, and Draco kept in an eyeroll, because of course, he hadn't heard _that_ one before.

Draco shrugged. “What makes you say that?” he asked.

“Well, you don’t talk much. You're friends with Hufflepuff's and, you don’t insult any of us much anymore.” he told him, and Draco slightly agreed.

That sounded just about right. He was still the person he'd always been, he just didn't have the energy to actively be him anymore.

Draco nodded. “I guess that’s quite true.” He mused.

“Why?”

He sighed, stirring the potion a couple of times. “I’m not sure.” He answered dishonestly, “perhaps I’ve decided it not appropriate to insult others for pleasure anymore.”

Weasley narrowed his eyes slightly, rubbing hand on his freckled forehead. “That doesn’t sound like you.” He accused.

“Maybe not, but I’m not sure that was every really me. I just can’t go back to being that narrow-minded idiot.” he admitted almost honestly to Weasley which shocked him to no end.

Weasley took a deep intake of breath. “You know I still don’t like Malfoy all that much.” He decided. “But Draco. Now he’s someone I could find myself becoming friends with.” He offered with a smile.

Draco gave him a small smile in return, “now that’s something I could get on board with.” He quipped before returning back to the potion.

Draco sighed as he attempted to swallow down the bile that was creeping up his throat. What Weasley didn’t realise, what nobody had truly realised was that Draco and Malfoy were the same person. And they were both gits.

….

Draco made it back to the Slytherin common room at exactly eight forty-five. He was exhausted. All he wanted to do was grab his sketchbook and curl up outside the Great Lake.

“Draco!” Blaise’s enthusiastic voice thwarted his very much needed plan.

He sighed, “Did you need anything?” he asked with a huff. All he wanted was to grab his sketchbook and leave. Was that too much to ask?

Blaise shook his head. “Can’t a guy check up on his best friend? Or are you too pretentious, even for little old me?” he joked.

Draco laughed, “I guess I can spare a few moments for little old you.” Could he though. Could he _really_?

“Excellent.” Blaise purred as they sat on one of the couches. “So, pray tell, do you have anything to do with why Theo looks as if his crup’s just died?” he asked.

“I don’t have any idea what you’re talking about.” Draco said innocently.

Blaise chuckled, patting Draco’s knee. “You know for a Slytherin, you’re a shit liar.” 

Well, that was all kinds of wrong. Being a Slytherin was about knowing when a good lie was warranted in a particular situation. Sadly, this pathetic excuse of an interrogation didn't qualify.

Draco huffed. “It’s not a big deal or anything, he just annoyed that I won’t go out with him.” he explained.

“And why won’t you?”

“I haven’t got time to get involved in insignificant things like relationships.” Draco said unconvincingly.

Blaise grinned. “I call bullshit on that pathetic excuse. Now, tell me the real reason that you rejected Theo.” he prodded.

Had Blaise maybe taken into account the possibility that Draco simply didn't want to tell him anything. That he wasn't at liberty to say anything. If he didn't want to date Theo, then he didn't have to. No questions asked.

But of course, Blaise had questions.

“I can’t.” Draco whispered.

“Why can’t you?” he asked and Draco kept quiet. “I _said_ why can’t you?” he repeated again.

“Because I fucking can’t!” Draco bit out loudly.

Blaise’s eyes softened slightly, taking in the distressed state of his best friend. “Fine.” He held up his hands in surrender, “but I’d give him a chance if I were you, he really likes you.” he attempted to be convincing.

“It doesn’t matter whether he likes me more not.” He muttered quietly.

Blaise sighed. “Draco, you have got to stop denying yourself things because you think that you don’t deserve it.”

Was he really that transparent. Didn't Blaise realise? It was obvious that Draco didn't deserve it. It was something that wasn't up to him. His choices had been taken from him a long time ago.

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise, “How did you— how?” he stumbled out.

Blaise clasped his shoulder gently, “Draco, you’re my best friend. I know you better than you know yourself. What ever problem you have with yourself, I want you to know that it’s okay. I’m here for you and we’ll get through it.” He smiled and Draco was taken back by the seriousness in his tone. Blaise was never serious.

“Thank you, but I’m fine.” He said robotically.

Blaise shook his head, “No you’re not, but that’s okay.” He reassured. “Anyways, please think about giving Theo a chance. I think he’d be good for you.”

Draco nodded but knew that he’d never really consider it.

Blaise grinned. “Good. Anyhow, I know you like dick, but have you seen the tits on Greengrass this year? I’m worried she’s going to fall over they probably weigh that much.” He babbled on and Draco smiled a rare smile.

It felt good to talk with his best friend.  
….

Draco was sitting in front of the Great Lake that same very evening. He had his sketchbook on his lap and a pencil in his hand. It was a beautiful night he mused. Quiet and peaceful, just how he liked it.

He became absently aware of the new presence next to him, but he played it no mind. Instead, he focused on his sketch.

“I’m sorry.” Potter said after several minutes.

Draco looked up, taking in his apologetic features. He nodded, before returning his gaze back onto his work.

Potter sighed a sigh of relief, before staring at the lake before him.

Draco knew he was weak. He knew that he shouldn’t forgive Potter. That he should walk away right now and not look back.

If Draco was a stronger man he would’ve done just that but alas, he wasn’t. He was pathetic. He knew, deep, deep down that Potter had already been forgiven, even before he’d apologised.

He knew that he’d always forgive Potter and that thought terrified him more than anything else.

Potter stayed with him until the sun came up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Y'all, my heart is breaking for Draco. Drarry will get WORSE before it get's any better. But I promise, it will all be worth the angst. Anyways does anyone know of a good Beta?  
> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated. Even if it's constructive criticism!


	3. Chapter Three.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just wanted to say THANK YOU for all the comments and kudos so far! the response has been quite overwhelming. You're comments and kudos inspire and urge me to carry on writing, so thank you.

There was seven of them. _Seven!_

And that’s after the rest of them had scurried off back to the Hufflepuff table when Snape had reprimanded them for overcrowding.

Seven of then still remained. Sitting comfortably at the Slytherin table as if they owned the place. Bloody Hufflepuff's!

The first years were surrounding him at the Slytherin table all involved in excited chatter. Kat was to the right of him squealing in delight whilst Pansy was to the left of him, her eyes glistening with amusement.

“Do you want to explain why there’s a bunch of Hufflepuff first years sitting at the Slytherin table?” Pansy asked.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her, “no I don’t think I will.” He said blandly.

In all honesty, he had actually started to become quite partial towards the Hufflepuff's. Maybe it was their innocent smiles, or excited laughs, he didn't know. But whatever it was he felt the need to squash it. And he had to do it now!

Pansy scoffed. “Come of Draco, even you have to admit that this is quite peculiar.” She mused.

Was she doing this to get a rise out of him or something? Peculiar. Peculiar! No, what was peculiar was the amount of makeup she caked onto her face each day, but she wasn't ready to have _that_ conversation yet.

Begrudgingly, he answered. “Of course, this is _fucking_ peculiar. But I still can’t supply an answer to your question.”

“And why may that be, Draco dear?” she smirked.

Draco rolled his eyes, “because I don’t bloody well know why there’s a bunch of Hufflepuff’s following me around like I’m Merlin himself!” he bit out exasperatedly.

Pansy hummed, “Maybe they just see you for the big old softie we all know that you are.” She joked and Draco wanted to bite her head off.

A softie! she'd be calling him a Hufflepuff next. Wait...

“I am not a softie.” He snapped, glaring daggers at her.

Pansy chuckled, “Yeah, if you’re not a softie then I’m an ugly, dirty, old pig. Oink!” she mocked.

“Really? I would’ve put you down for more of a pug than a pig.” He joked and she jabbed him in his side. “Ouch.” He said whilst peering closer at her, “you know, since you mentioned it, I do think you could pass for a bit of a pig. Your nose is very pig-like. Don’t you agree Pansy darling?”

Even he had to admit, he was proud of that one. He thought back to what Blaise had said a few months ago, 'your insults aren't that funny Draco' he had rudely stated.

Well, who was laughing now?

Actually if he were quite honest, Blaise and his pretentious comments could go suck his dick. Literally. Blaise would definitely appreciate it, that's for sure!

She growled, “you really are a piece of work Draco Malfoy.” She decided, as if that was meant to offend him.

Draco smirk, “I live to serve.” He flared dramatically, as the sleeve of his robe was tugged quite forcefully.

“Draco, Draco, Draco.” Kat chirped excitedly and Draco turned to look at her.

How in Merlin’s name did she already have so much energy?

It was only eight in the morning and Draco was already contemplating death. No seriously, was it even possibly to AK oneself?

He decided he didn’t care, if he died trying then that was the bloody point wasn’t it?

“Yes, yes, yes? He asked her expectantly.

Kat beamed. “Were you listening to what I was just saying?” she queried. Truthfully, he hadn't heard one word of what she'd just said.

But it didn't matter, Draco was a lying expert.

Draco smiled at her. “But _of course_ , I was.” He assured her dishonestly.

She rose her eyebrow, “good, then you should know that I’m going to dye my hair Hufflepuff purple tomorrow.” She said proudly and he froze.

Draco nodded. “Erm, yes. I think that it’s a very interesting choice of colouring.”

Purple? _Purple!?!_ What an absolutely atrocious colour.

He could see it now, being followed around the school grounds by a purple Hufflepuff. Well, that just wouldn't do. He'd have to charm her hair back when she wasn't looking.

Kat slapped him playfully on the arm. “You’re a big, fat liar Draco.” She teased.

“Am I?” he asked playfully.

She nodded frantically. “Yes, you are. I never said that I would die my hair Hufflepuff purple, that would be atrocious.” She laughed and he whole heartedly agreed, “Anyways, I’m quite partial to Slytherin green.” she told him and his ears immediately perked up.

Slytherin green? Now _that_ was a colour he could get on board with.

Draco grinned, “you know? I think that Slytherin green is an excellent idea.” He exclaimed.

“Really?” she asked, her wide eyes glistening.

He gave her an even bigger smile, “definitely. In fact, I think you’d look beautiful.” he said sincerely.

She gave him the biggest grin known to all of wizarding kind, which he returned. He was just about to help himself to another slice of toast when he abruptly stopped.

“Shit!” he swore out loud.

Kat gave him a concerned look, “what’s wrong?” she asked.

He shook his head, standing up quickly, “I’ve just remembered the transfiguration essay that I haven’t yet completed. McGonagall is going to chop my balls off.” He had to admit, but he really liked his balls. And he meant _really_ liked them.

She laughed, “that’s very silly of you Draco.” She commented.

“Yes, it’s very _silly_ of you Draco.” Pansy teased and Draco shot her a death glare.

“Don’t worry Draco, we’ll come with you and help.” She decided, gesturing for the rest of the Hufflepuff's to follow her.

“NO!” Draco shouted a bit to loudly and Kat’s face fell. He softened his features and sighed, “I mean, no, it’s okay, I’ll only be a few moments.” he smiled. Totally saved it!

Kat sill didn’t look all that convinced. “Anyways, I’m sure Pansy would like to hear all about your Slytherin green hair idea.” He offered.

“She would?” Kat gasped happily and the same time Pansy chocked out “ _she would?_ ” toast crumbs spluttering everywhere.

Draco gave Pansy a cunning smirk, “oh yes, she definitely would.” He assured her.

“Ooo! That’s so exciting!” Kat exclaimed before going into a long rant about Slytherin green hair. Pansy gave him an _I’m going to fucking murder you Draco Lucius Malfoy_ kind of look and Draco’s lips curled upwards.

Payback was a bitch.

….

Draco was making his way towards the library, quite speedily in fact. Although, not too speedily mind you, because a Malfoy must be nothing but calm and collected.

He was ashamed to admit it, but he was glad to be free of his posy of Hufflepuff's for the minute. They were adorably unbearable. Kat he could handle, she was starting to become that of a sister to him. But with her came a whole band of excited, overbearing little Hufflepuff first years and Draco wanted to AK himself.

It’s not like he didn’t like the Hufflepuff’s, because he did. It was just whenever they were around it was always: Draco let’s play a game, or Draco let’s preach about happiness or kindness, or Draco does He-Who-Shall-Not-Be-Named really look like a reptile? In which he answered no, piss off and shut the fuck up.

Plus, do you have any idea how bloody hard it is to plan a murder, when you have tiny little Hufflepuff balls wanting to pet your hair?

“Malfoy.” An ugly sneer snapped him from his thoughts.

He looked up, coming face to face with the rather repulsive faces of Ernie Macmillan and Zacharias Smith. Had Merlin not punished Draco enough?

“What do you think you’re doing Malfoy?” Smith spat.

Draco rolled his eyes, “hunting hippogriffs” he bit out sarcastically and both boys glared. “What the fuck you _think_ I’m doing?”

Smith narrowed his eyes. “I don’t know what you’ve done Malfoy, but I demand you stop it.” Okay this was pitiful. Truly pitiful.

Draco didn’t have the foggiest idea as to what he was banging on about. “Stop What? Breathing?” he drawled.

Macmillan snorted and Draco blinked. He’d forgotten about Macmillan. How disappointing. Well, if you’re looking for someone who’s even more irrelevant than Neville bloody Longbottom, than Macmillan is your guy.

“Of course, not you idiot. The Hufflepuff's! Stop stealing the Hufflepuff's.” Smith exclaimed and Macmillan nodded. A nod? Really? A bloody nod! Was this guy mute or something?

Draco chuckled. “I assure you that I’m not stealing your Hufflepuff's.” He made a mental note. Stealing Hufflepuff's. That actually wasn't a bad idea.

“No? Then please tell me why they’re following you around like you’re a god?” Smith asked, pulling his wand out, Macmillan following suit.

Was Draco meant to be intimidated? If that was the case, then these doofuses were doing a pretty shit job at it. “Maybe because I am?” he pointed out as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“Don’t _act_ smart with me, Malfoy.” He warned.

Draco lifted an eyebrow, “you can’t act smart you bumbling buffoon. You either are or you’re not. Not that I’d expect the likes of _you_ to understand that.” He said judgingly.

Smith growled. “That’s it Malfoy. I’m done with your shit.” He swore and Draco put up a shield charm in the nick of time, anticipating Smith’s next move.

“You know what you are?” he queried in between hexes “You Macmillan are a measly follower, grow some bloody balls. Or you can borrow some of mine, I’ve got more than enough.”

Macmillan fired another hex and glared, “Shut up.” He growled.

Draco ignored him. “And you” he spat at a red-faced Smith “You need to stop acting like a blooming saviour, we’ve already got one of those. And trust me we don’t need nor want another, one’s annoying enough. There’s seriously nothing worse than a Hufflepuff acting like a Gryffindor.” He teased.

Smith screeched and Draco smiled. “Be your own man!” Draco jeered. “Be the happy Hufflepuff I know you to be.”

Draco carried on. “I understand that it must be disheartening knowing that you were tossed into Hufflepuff because you was hardly wanted by the other house. That must’ve hurt but it’s okay.”

“You’re a Hufflepuff now. Embrace it!” he exclaimed and his defence fell.

Shit he thought as he was hit with an abundance of hexes. He absently remarked that maybe he should’ve kept his mouth shut, before it all went black.

….

_Draco was trapped._

_It was extremely peculiar. It was as if he’d been submerged under a bucket of water, but he could still breathe. He couldn’t hear anything, he couldn’t speak. All he could do was breathe. He was a puppet, the water being his master._

_“_ _Fix the cabinet.” An unrecognisable voice whispered. “Fix the cabinet.” It repeated._

_Draco was at a loss. He wanted to run, he wanted to hide and get as far away from the voice as possible._

_But he couldn’t._

_He couldn’t move. He couldn’t escape. It was if he were paralysed._

_“Draco.” The voice teased again. “Draco. Draco. Draco Drac—”_

Draco woke up drenched in sweat. What was that? Where was he?

He didn’t have a chance to dwell over the dream when Madam Pomfrey appeared at the foot of his bed. So, he was in the hospital ward. That made sense. 

Draco looked up, his head searing in pain. Smith seemed to have killed him. Congratulations Zacharias fucking Smith, for he had successfully done what even the Dark Lord could not. Draco really needed to stop dying. Cause of death: an obnoxious twat and his massive ego.

“Mr Malfoy, I see you have joined the land of the living.” Madam Pomfrey remarked.

Draco sat up carefully, “it appears so.” he remarked.

Pomfrey nodded. “How are you feeling?” she asked.

You see, he didn't understand why Healers would always ask him that question. What was he meant to say? I'm not feeling sick at all, in fact, I've been freely deposited here, is it alright if I leave? It was just stupid.

“Like I’ve been splinched.”

Her lips curled knowingly, “yes, yes that seems about right. Especially after the amount of hexes your body took.” She said.

He sighed, not much fancying talking about his health much longer, “What’s the time?” he asked.

“It’s just gone two.”

Draco nodded before pulling off his blanket and getting out of the bed. Like hell was he going to stay here any longer than he needed to.

“Where do you think you’re going, Mr Malfoy?” she warned.

He raised an eyebrow, “Out?” he answered as if it were obvious.

Pomfrey shook her head. “Last time I checked; I hadn’t discharged you.” she chastised him.

Draco heaved dramatically, “are my wounds healed?” She nodded. “Am I functioning like a bloody human being?” She nodded. “Am I fucking dying.” 

“No and mind your language.”

He rolled his eyes, “then if you don’t mind, I’m going to potions.” He said defiantly.

Pomfrey sighed in defeat, “Fine, you may leave. But don’t let me see you in this hospital ward again anytime soon.” she warned.

Draco shot her a comical glance, “no disrespect, but this is the last fucking place I want to be.” He assured her before walking out of the room.

“Language!” she called after him and he chuckled.

….

Draco entered the potions classroom with a swish of his robes. Wow, he was feeling awfully dramatic today.

“And why are you late, Mr Malfoy?” Slughorn enquired.

Draco glared at him, “ask sodding Smith if you really want to know.”

Slughorn gave him a disappointed look, “mind your language and please take a seat.” He gestured to his potions desk. 

He didn't like Slughorn. He _really_ didn't like Slughorn. The old coot needed someone to stick his wand up somewhere where the sun didn't shine.

Draco rolled his eyes, “Yes, because I was going to spend the entire lesson standing up.” He remarked before taking a seat.

“Five points from Slytherin for such poor language.” He tutted before carrying on with the lesson.

Draco sulked. What was wrong with him? Draco knew that he was sarcastic, it was his proudest personality trait after all. But what was this? Wasn’t he trying to divert attention from himself, not encourage it? Self-preservation and all that Slytherin crap.

Draco sighed contemplatively, he reasoned that he just didn’t care. He really didn’t care. What was the point? He was trapped in a net of expectation and duty. His life was and would always be a product of his father’s choices. What was the point of caring for a life that wasn’t his own?

The slamming of a door broke him from his thoughts. Draco looked up in surprise to find Kat standing in the doorway, a band of Hufflepuff's trailing behind her. They promptly ignored Slughorn’s protests and marched up to Smith with pure determination.

“We don’t like you.” Kat spat at Smith, the other Hufflepuff's nodding in agreement. 

Oh hell, Draco mused. What were the little mixes up to _now_?

Smith burst into puffs of laughter, “I don’t care.” He said defiantly.

Kat narrowed her eyes, standing tall. “We know what you did to Draco.” She accused. Oh no. They weren't talking about what he thought they were talking about? Were they? 

Smith grinned. “Then you’d know that I hexed him good. Real good.” He mocked.

“That wasn’t very nice.” Kat pointed out and Draco’s heart swelled at her innocence.

“Well, I’m not a very nice person and your idiot of a leader deserved it.”

Kat and the other Hufflepuff's drew their wands in a threat filled stance. “You mess with Draco, then you _mess_ with all of us.” Piggy snarled and Draco felt a slither of admiration for the pig-like girl.

Smith howled. “Who would’ve thought it? Draco Malfoy so much of a coward that he needs a few first years to do his bidding. How pathetic.” He insulted.

“Wrong answer.” Kat said, her voice colder than he’d ever heard it.

Just then, Smith was attacked by a flock of angry butterflies, them pecking and nabbing at his exposed skin. He screamed in pain.

“Get them off. Get them off.” He shouted frantically, running around in circles.

The first years smiled with satisfaction as the rest of the sixth years erupted into a bout of laughter, tears forming at the crests of their eyes.

Wow, is this what they meant by manmade karma? Draco had to admit he'd always been sceptical of the idea, but seeing the bastard withering in pain like that, well... Draco decided that manmade karma was his new favourite thing.

It looked a lot like revenge. How very fitting.

Smith let out an anguished cry, before running out of the potions classroom, the door slamming behind him.

The first year’s rounded on Ernie Macmillan, pointing their wands at him in challenge. Macmillan squealed putting up his hands in defeat. Kat hissed at him before turning on her heel running towards Draco, the other Hufflepuff’s following suit.

“Did you see, did you see?” she asked excitedly, her eyes alive with victory.

Draco nodded. “I saw.” he gave her a proud grin.

She smiled. “He was so scared. He ran away like a big fat coward.” She preened and Draco couldn’t help but chuckle.

“We heard what he’d done to you and we wanted revenge.” A mini Hufflepuff boy said angrily.

They all nodded enthusiastically and Draco took a moment to notice the bright purple badges flashing on all of their robes. Draco’s eyes widened in mortification.

“Why are you all wearing those badges?” he asked with caution.

Kat frowned. “Don’t you like them?” she pouted gesturing to her badge that read _Draco Malfoy Pride_.

Honestly, Draco had no idea what to feel. One part of him was full of embarrassment, but the other bigger part of him felt deep gratitude and belonging.

Draco gave her a genuine smile, “I do. I like them a lot.”

Kat beamed. “Oh, that makes me so happy. I had them made especially for you.” She grinned handing him a purple badge. Draco took the badge, eyeing it sceptically.

“Well put it on.” She urged and Draco sighed putting the Draco Malfoy Pride badge onto his robes.

“Wow, it looks perfect!” one of the first years exclaimed with wonder.

Kat clapped her hands with delight. “I just knew that it would be perfect.” She admitted proudly.

Draco chuckled. “As great as this all is, I think you guys better go back to your classes before you give Slughorn a heart attack.” He mused, gesturing to a quite green Slughorn.

Kat laughed before pulling Draco in for one of their hugs, “You’re right, I’ll see you at dinner.” She assured him before shooting Macmillan one last glare and walking towards the door.

Just as they were about to exit, the first years came to a halt turning back round. Kat coughed loudly. “If anyone else dares harm one hair on Draco’s head, just remember that you’ll have us to deal with.”

The Hufflepuff's drew their wands dauntingly, “oh, that was a threat by the way, if anyone was confused.” Kat said in a chirper voice before leading the first years out.

“Mad. They’re all mad.” Weasley commented in amusement giving Draco a small simile.

Draco silently agreed. The Dark Lord better had watch his back. Who needed Perfect Potter when he had a bunch of angry Hufflepuff first years?

….

“Draco, wait up.” Theo’s suggestive voice stopped him in his tracks as he turned away from the common room door. “Where are you going?”

Draco assessed the situation. He could lie, but what would he say? Defeated, he settled for the truth. “I’m going to the Great Lake.” He replied.

“I’ll come with you.” Theo offered.

“No!” he said a little too quickly and Theo frowned. “Sorry, I just really need a bit of time for myself.” He said hoping that it was an acceptable answer.

Theo nodded and Draco shoulder’s sagged in relief. “That’s understandable. I was actually wanting to ask you something.” He breathed out nervously.

Oh no. Oh dear. Oh god. Oh whatever else that came after 'oh'. This was bad, this was very, very bad. 

Maybe Draco was overreacting, maybe Theo wasn't going to ask what he thought he was going to ask. He probably wanted to know what hair products Draco used, he couldn't blame him, His hair was flawless.

Draco raised a dreaded brow in acknowledgement. “Will you go to Hogsmeade with me this weekend?” he choked out.

So, it appeared Draco was wrong. Crap. He really thought he had something with the whole hair products guess.

Couldn’t Theo catch a hint? Draco couldn’t go out with him. He couldn’t go out with anyone; he didn’t deserve it. Death Eater’s didn’t deserve nice things.

He shook he head. “I’m sorry Theo, but I can’t.” he stated simply. 

Theo let out an angry sigh, “Merlin Draco, I’m so sick of this crap.” He huffed.

And Draco took a deep breath, preparing to keep this alteration in his memory bank for future stories.

He could see it now: and this kids is how Draco Malfoy single handedly drove Theodore Nott off the edge. He was sure that it would become a fan favourite. 

Draco glared at him, “What on _earth_ are you talking about?” he stated as if Theo were crazy.

“What am I talking about?” he asked hysterically. “What am I _bloody_ well talking about?” he sneered.

Draco looked up at him in alarm. “This. Us. You!” he frantically spat, gesturing his arms between them.

Why was he making this so hard? Why couldn't he leave Draco alone? He already felt horrible, he already had the weight of the world on his shoulders. He didn't need this too.

“There is no us.” he told him simply absently aware that he was an actual savage.

Theo snorted. “Exactly.” He pointed out.

Draco looked at him in bafflement. “Then what’s your problem?” he asked.

“My problem?” he bit out incredulously. “My problem is that you refuse to fucking talk to me like a human being.” He snapped.

“Last time I checked I wasn’t talking to you like you were a bloody animal. Stop being so dramatic, Theo.” Draco criticised, dramatic was a title only reserved for Draco.

Whether he wanted it nor not, it was his.

Theo growled. “Stop acting dumb. Stop pretending that you don’t know what I’m talking about. You know _exactly_ what I’m talking about.” He accused.

“And what would that be?”

Theo racked his hands through his hair, “that you haven’t given me an answer.” he pointed out and Draco was tired.

Draco furrowed his brows, “Did I or did I not already say that I decline your Hogsmeade offer. Or am I going barmy here.” He sarcastically stated.

“Oh, shut the hell up Draco. You know I wasn’t talking about that.”

“Then what are you talking about?” he challenged.

Theo shook his head, “You haven’t said yes or no.” Draco opened his mouth to correct him but was abruptly cut off. “If I were you I’d keep your mouth shut.” He warned, and Draco decided that keeping his mouth shut seemed like a pretty good idea. 

“I told you that I liked you at the end of fifth year and again at the beginning of term. But still, to this day you’ve ignored me. You haven’t told be if you like me, love me, or just downright hate me. So, which is it Draco?” he questioned. “Which is it?” he repeated, his voice laced with vulnerability.

Draco started to shake, his eyes filling with tears. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” 

Theo stared at him; his eyes too full of tears. “Please Draco, speak to me. Please, just tell me what’s going on.” He offered desperately, taking a step towards him.

Draco took an abrupt step back as if burned. “I’m sorry.” He said. “I’m so, so sorry.” He babbled incomprehensively before leaving the common room ignoring Theo’s desperate pleas to come back.

….

….  
“You’re late.” Potter stated as Draco sat down next to him. Draco ignored him, focusing his gaze on the sketchbook beneath him.

Potter shrugged. “It’s been almost two weeks Malfoy, are you still not going to speak to me?” he asked.

Am I still breathing? Yes. Then no.

Potter glanced at him expectantly before sighing in defeat. “I guess not. That’s okay though. I like your presence anyways.” He decided and Draco wondered what the hell he was on about.

“Your Hufflepuff’s were amazing today during potions, Smith looked about two seconds away from passing out.” He chuckled. The git deserved it Draco mused. “And don’t get me started on the Draco Malfoy Pride badges, I mean what in Merlin’s name is up with all of that?” he teased.

Potter turned to face him. “I still can’t figure you out Malfoy.” He accused light-heartedly. “You’ve been a complete git to me for the past few years. But this year, this year you’re different.” He contemplated. Really? He hadn’t noticed. Please carry on with your first-year observations, they’re ever so informative.

Truthfully, it wasn't so much that he was different, it was more so that he was quiet. Or maybe it was because he was defeated. That must be it, he decided.

Although, he couldn't help but acknowledge the small part of him that maybe wanted it to be that he had changed. Maybe, he _had_ changed. He didn't know anymore. He didn't particularly care all that much either.

“Help me out here Malfoy!” he said exasperatedly. “You’re quiet and meek. You don’t taunt nor talk to me. You have a bunch of Hufflepuff's following you around as if you were Merlin himself. I just don’t understand it.” Neither did he, neither did he.

“I want to understand it. Help me to understand it.” He almost begged. 

He wanted to help. He desperately did, but how could he possible comment on a question that he didn't know the answer to?

Potter shifted in his seat, “I want to believe that it’s because you’ve changed. That it’s because you’re different now. But I can’t.” he admitted, and Draco's heart sunk.

It was as if his hope had been sunk. Potter was right, he hadn't changed. No, he had just masked the truth.

And that was worse than the person he'd once shown himself to be, an open traitorous person was far more acceptable than a hidden one. Those were the ones most likely to stab you in the back.

Potter raked a hand through messy black curls. “You confuse me Malfoy. You confuse me so bloody much. This is your fault; this is all your fucking fault.” he told him.

But of course, it was. Because all of Potter’s problems were Draco’s fault. And you know what, maybe he was right. Maybe they were. It made sense in a twisted way.

It hadn't been this way before the start of sixth year. Potter hadn't been acting so.. unstable. No, it had started around the same time that Draco had become more subdued.

That _had_ to mean something, right?

“Sometimes I hate you. I hate you so much. I don’t want to, but I do. I thought it was because of all the horrible things you’ve done to me. But now, _now_ I’m not so certain anymore.” Draco could understand that.

Hating someone because you felt you had to, hating them and not knowing why, was something Draco was far too acquittanced with. After all, he'd been doing it for most of his life.

“For _fucks sake_ Malfoy. Why are you doing this to me? Why are you making me feel so much? I can’t stand it, just make it stop. Please make it stop.” he almost begged.

Hearing Potter so distraught, so confused, and knowing that it was because of him was a terrible feeling. He didn't know what to do. He could hardly say anything, even if he were permitted to talk to Potter. There was nothing he could possibly say that would make this any better.

So, Draco took a deep breath, laying his art things on the ground next to him, then doing the only thing he could do. He extended his arm over entwining his hand with Potter’s. He promptly ignored the warmth that gathered in the pits of his stomach.

They watched the sunrise together.

….

Draco was in hell.

There was no other explanation. He had died and had ended up in hell and was currently undergoing deep torture. It was unexpected, Draco decided. He’d always believed that once he’d died and descend into hell, he’d be sitting on a throne. Instead, he was seated in an uncomfortable wooden chair in the Headmaster’s office. What a peculiar change of events.

If he thought that avoiding a bunch of Hufflepuff's was hard, then this was impossible. How in Merlin’s name did you look the man who you plan to murder in cold blood in the eyes?

Answer: You did not.

No, Draco was currently staring at the floor as the Headmaster berated him for his actions in potions yesterday.

Funnily enough, it wasn’t the whole ‘first-year Hufflepuff's stormed into the potions classroom and hexed the shit out of Smith’ incident that the Headmaster was discipling him about. In fact, he hadn’t even brought it up.

No, apparently Slughorn had bitched about Draco’s ‘foully absurd language’ claiming that it was ‘disrespectful and disruptive’. Well quite frankly, Draco found Slughorn’s unibrow and toad’s breath ‘disrespectful and disruptive’ but you don’t see him running off to tell the Headmaster with his tail between his legs.

Bloody coward. 

Did he really have the right to question Draco on his actions. His name was Slughorn. Slug-horn. It sounded like something that came out of his asshole when he took a dump. Completely unflattering and tremendously vulgar.

“Are we clear Mr Malfoy?” The Headmaster’s calm voice tore him from his thoughts.

He blinked. “What?” he asked.

The Headmaster sighed knowingly. “Are you sure that you’re alright, Mr Malfoy?” he asked in concern.

Draco rose an eyebrow. He was fine. Well, except from the fact that he bore a mark of evil, was set an impossible task, hadn’t had one bloody idea on how to kill the old crow, hadn’t gone back to fix the vanishing cabinet until the start of term oh and let’s not forget this thing he had going on with Potter that he didn’t know what to do with.

But yes, he was fine.

He nodded. “I’m perfectly fine Sir.” He answered, his voice void of emotion. 

The Headmaster gave him a deep frown, “If there’s anything, and I mean anything that I can do for you, please don’t hesitate to ask.” He said genuinely.

Draco took a deep breath. This was his chance. The old bat had given him a way out, a ticket to sanctuary. All he had to do was be brave enough to take it. He could come clean to the order, ask for protection for himself and his mother. He was certain that they’d provide help for his father if he asked for it. Salvation was right there in front of him, all he had to do was reach out and grab it.

He coughed. “I’m fine.” He repeated again and the Headmaster’s eyes flashed with disappointment before returning back to their naturally warm state.

He was such an idiot. He wanted to ask for help, he wanted to so badly. Why couldn’t he do it? What was wrong with him? He knew that he should stop this nonsense and confide in the Headmaster. But he wouldn’t, no, he couldn’t. And he didn’t know why.

He thought of his mother locked up in the Manor, scared out of her wits. He thought of his father locked up in Azkaban fighting to get out and back to his family. Draco sighed, he bore it, so they didn’t have to.

“If that’s all?” Draco half-asked, half-stated.

The Headmaster nodded. “Are you sure that you wouldn’t like a lemon drop?” he asked, gesturing to the bowl.

Draco shook his head “No, that’s quite alright.” He said and got up to leave.

His hand was on the door when the Headmaster called out “Mr Malfoy.” Draco turned back round. “Please do look into controlling your Hufflepuff's, we wouldn’t want anyone else to suffer how poor Mr Smith has suffered today.” His eyes twinkled with mischief.

Draco turned a fine shade of red, “Of course Sir, I’ll try to control my Hufflepuff's.” He sent him a small smile before taking his leave.

….

Draco was in the library attempting to defeat a particularly violent piece of potions homework. He growled, like hell would his homework be victorious, he was the king of all things potions.

He was deeply engaged with his work when he felt a new presence in front of him. Hufflepuff's! It had to be the Hufflepuff's.

He took a deep breath, before plastering on a smile, looking up into the big brown eyes of _Granger_. What was she doing here?

He looked at her confused, and she raised an eyebrow up in defiance. “Did you want to say something, Malfoy?” she asked boldly.

He shook his head, “Not particularly. I was just wondering as to why you’re sitting here, especially when there’s lots of other free tables.” he gestured to the tables around them, not quite sure as to Granger wanted to sit with him of all people.

“Is me sitting here a problem?” she challenged.

Draco shifted in his seat, “Of course not.” He attempted to come off as genuine.

Granger narrowed her eyes at him. “So why are you so interested in where I decided to do my homework?” she lifted her chin up giving him a dubious look.

Merlin! They were just going around in circles. “It’s just surprising that’s all.” she shot him a glance that urged him to continue. “I’m not that good of a person, why would you ever want to sit with me when there’s so many other better choices?” he replied, albeit a tiny bit insecurely. 

“Perhaps, I’ve had enough of good people.” She contemplated.

How could you have enough of good people? It was just something that wasn't done. There were good people, and bad people. Opting to venture with the bad people was just ludicrous.

Draco furrowed his brows not in the slightest bit convinced, “really?” he questioned.

She shook her head, “I guess not. Would it be so hard to believe that I genuinely wanted to sit with you.” She queried, and for the first time Draco Malfoy wondered if Hermione Granger was stupid.

Of fucking course he found that hard to believe. He wasn't as barmy as everyone else apparently was, he actually remembered the git he used to be.

He nodded. “Yes, I find that extremely hard to believe. I’ve been horrible to you.” He said honestly.

“That’s quite true. But even I can see that you’ve changed.” She mused. “You’re not that much of an arrogant idiot anymore.” she decided, giving him a once over.

He avoided her eyes, suddenly feeling quite shy. “Potter doesn’t seem to think so.” He mumbled.

She smiled knowingly. “Harry is…complicated.” She attempted, “he doesn’t do all that well with change.” She declared. “Also, let’s not forget that you were a complete git to him for six years of his life.” She added.

Draco nodded acceptingly. He supposed that made sense. It didn’t explain his recent split behaviour though. One minute he spoke to Draco as if they were friends of sorts, the next he glared at him as if they were mortal enemies. It hurt Draco more than he’d ever care to admit. It also confused him greatly, and he suspected that even the likes of Granger didn’t have the answers to that particular question.

“I’ve not changed.” He blurted out suddenly. She gave him a baffled look. “I’m still the same git that I was before.” He carried on.

Granger shook her head. “No, I don’t think so.” She considered. “We’ve been talking for quite a bit of time, and not once have you said anything insulting or aggressive.” 

Draco attempted to speak but she cut him off with a wave of her hand. “If this were even a few months ago, you wouldn’t have been able to string a sentence together without calling me a _mudblood_.” She spat out the word as if it was poison. 

He shook his head looking down at his feet. Why didn’t she understand? Why didn’t anybody understand?

“Trust me, you’ve changed, you’re different. I’m just not sure of what kind of change yet.” she said honestly and Draco’s face fell.

She reached over, placing a hand atop of his. His eyes flew up, shocked at the action. Her hand was warm, it didn’t ignite butterflies in his stomach like Potter, but it was nice, nevertheless.

She smiled at him reassuringly, “But if you’re willing, I’d like to find out.” She said softly.

Draco looked at her feeling completely bemused. “I don’t understand. You hate me. I’ve been awful to you.”

“I’ve never hated you. Disliked you, yes. Thought you a bit of an imbecile, definitely. But hated you? Never. That was always you.”

Draco blinked, feeling meek. “I’m sorry.” He whispered. “I’m so sorry for what I’ve done to you.” _And what I continue to do_. 

Her eyes shone with surprise, “Thank you, Draco.” She breathed and his name fell from her lips with minimal effort, but it was quite odd.

He gave her a first real smile, “you’re welcome, Hermione.” He returned, feeling light as if a weight had been lifted.

She grinned widely before opening up her book. “I see that you’re doing the potions homework. It’s tricky.” She exclaimed. “It took me a good two hours to do, would you like some help?” she asked hesitantly.

“That would be great.” He answered and she beamed and immediately started to lecture him on the properties of a common healing potion.

He couldn’t help but notice the similarities between her and Kat. They were so similar but yet so different. He felt awful for how he’d treated Hermione in their past years. She didn’t deserve it, none of them deserved it.

Maybe if he’d realised what a colossal jerk he was earlier then perhaps they would’ve become friends sooner. He definitely would’ve liked that he decided. He reasoned that she must be a beautiful person to forgive him after what he’d put her through. He reckoned that’s exactly what she was. _A beautiful soul_.

….

“Have you ever looked at the stars Malfoy?” Potter asked, his gaze ablaze with wonder as he took in the nights sky.

He sighed. “And I don’t mean just a quick glance here and there.” He pointed out. “I mean really looked at them.” He whispered the last part softly.

If Draco could speak. If he deserved to acknowledge Potter then he would say that _yes, he had looked. And he’d been completely struck with awe_.

“Well I have, ever since I was young. I still do.” He mused. “I didn’t really have anyone when I was younger. My family don’t like me all that much.” He admitted and Draco’s heart broke a little for him.

Potter frowned slightly, “I didn’t have any toys. Or family. Or friends.” Draco sighed, he knew how that felt. He wished he didn't but he did.

“But I wasn’t alone.” He said firmly. “No, I had the stars.” His lips curled into a small grin.

He turned around to face Draco, “They were always there for me, as if they were my little friends in the sky. When I was younger I’d tell them all kinds of different stories, and they’d always listen. They’d never judge me or snap at me. No, they’d just listen. For once I felt wanted, as if I belonged.” He said wistfully.

“It’s not much like that anymore. When I talk they still listen. They don’t judge nor mock me. But they’re not my friends anymore. No, they’re my family. I like to think that my parents are two stars out of thousands in the vast sky.” He admitted and Draco was transfixed onto him.

He smiled. “I like to think that they’re up there, watching over me. That they’ll always to be there to guide me and protect me. That no matter where I am, at night I’ll always be able to see them. A bit like their love for me, I may not be able to feel it, but I know it’s there. Always.”

He glanced down at his feet; his skin tainted with a soft blush. “It’s silly, I know.” He murmured.

Draco took a deep breath, tears glistening in his eyes threatening to fall. Carefully, he extended an arm latching his hand onto Potter’s giving it a squeeze. He felt calm. He felt right.

They looked up into the nights sky, gazing up at the stars. Together.

The stars disappeared when the sunrise rose.

….

Draco was sitting nervously in the Great Hall. Kat was chatting away to the left of him and Theo was on his right. He had no particular reason to be nervous, he just was.

“Are you feeling alright, Draco?” Theo asked and Draco nodded. Things were still a bit uncomfortable between them, but he knew that despite everything, they’d always remain friends.

Potter was sitting at the Gryffindor table laughing at something Weasley had said. The Weaselette was seated next to him, hanging off his arm. Draco didn’t quite understand as to why they were sitting so close, it was extremely unflattering.

Green eyes met grey as Potter stared right back at him. He raised a defiant eyebrow, his lips curling into a twisted snarl. Draco sighed; he was disappointed but not surprised. He thought that just maybe things had changed between them last night. Evidently, he was wrong. 

Draco hated himself. He hated that he’d let his guard down. That he’d been naïve enough to feed into Potter’s words. To be vulnerable with him, to almost open up to him. He’d been a fool.

Potter gave him one last final glare, before leaning towards the Weaselette and giving her a long, drawn-out, passionate kiss. 

Draco felt the air leave his lungs. His head was spinning, his heart was beating painfully within his chest. Everything hurt.

He didn’t have any answers, but he needed them, he craved them. He had to know, he had to understand why he was feeling like this. 

The pain was bearable, but it was still there. 

It didn’t hurt nearly as much as the dark mark had. It didn’t hurt as much as having his freedom ripped from him. It didn’t hurt as much as having his family’s lives in his hands.

Draco was confused. He was so confused. It still hurt. Why did it hurt so goddam much? 

Potter pulled away from the Weaselette, giving him one last triumphant smirk before returning back to his food.

Draco made a decision. An impulsive, stupid decision.

He turned to Theo, taking a deep breath before letting out one, single word. “Yes.”

Theo looked at him confused. “What?” he questioned blankly.

“Yes.” Draco repeated.

Theo’s eyes widened in realisation. “You’ll go to Hogsmeade with me?” he asked disbelievingly.

Draco nodded and Theo gave a beaming smile.

Draco gulped. He knew he was being ridiculous. He knew that Theo wasn’t someone that he truly deserved. Theo was loving and kind. Draco was cruel and cold. He didn’t deserve Theo; he wasn’t even one hundred percent sure if he truly wanted Theo. 

He just wanted it to stop. He wanted the pain to stop.

He wanted everything to stop.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was that as bad a chapter as I thought it was? It wasn't very plotty, I guess I wanted to focus more on Draco's relationships. Sorry if it sucked as much as I think it did. Also, don't worry DRARRY will sort their crap out. I promise!  
> As always, comments and kudos are appreciated :)


	4. Chapter Four.

The rest of the week had gone by faster than the Dark Lord had rose from the dead.

To say that it had been a weird week would be a bit of an understatement. He now could honestly say that he had made friends in the Weasel and Granger. Or Weasley and Hermione as he now calls them. Between working on his potions project as well as the occasional out of class conversations with Weasley and Hermione’s and his daily library study sessions, Draco was well and truly flabbergasted. His new friendships were completely unexpected, but welcomed, nevertheless.

The Hufflepuff’s were still his most loyal and fierce protectors. They’d taken to spending breakfast, lunch, and dinner at the Slytherin table, much to the other Slytherin’s dismay. No kidding. The Slytherin table had been completely overrun my mini little Hufflepuff’s.

Not that Draco minded all that much, he would never admit it, but he loved his little Hufflepuff’s. They were tiny miniature versions of the child he should have been, of what he now hopes to be.

And Kat. Sweet, little, adorable Kat. They were attached from the hip. There wasn’t Draco if Kat weren’t there to guide and help him. She’d even dyed her hair Slytherin green just a couple of days ago, and Draco couldn’t be prouder of his Slytherpuff.

Of course, this thing with Potter hadn’t got any less confusing. He continued to meet Potter every night at the Great Lake, watching the stars until they were hidden by the sun. Potter told him his biggest secrets, his deepest fears, what made him happy and what made him sad. They never spoke of the Weaselette incident.

Potter still ignored him during the day. It was either Draco didn’t exist, or that his existence was an inconvenience for Potter. There was no in between. Draco didn’t know how he felt about that. On the one hand, the day hurt. It hurt so goddamn much. To be belittled by Potter, to be cast away like he were nothing.

But the nights, the nights, they were something to be treasured. They made him feel special, wanted. Draco didn’t speak, nor respond. No, he just listened and felt. He listened to the gentle deepness of Potter’s tone; he felt his heart skip a beat whenever they hands fused together. Potter made him feel safe, accepted, wanted. He couldn’t give that up. He wouldn’t give that up for the world.

So, the Hogsmeade weekend had crept up on him out of nowhere. He was getting ready for his date with Theo. Well, he would’ve been if he hadn’t been dragged into an empty classroom by a red-faced, angry Snape.

“Draco Malfoy Pride!” he shouted deliriously, waving the purple badge around frantically.

Draco scoffed. “Well, yes I do believe that’s what the badge says Severus.” he fought the urge to laugh. He was quite proud of that one.

Severus growled. “Don’t give me your cheek, you idiotic boy. Don’t you understand the severity of your actions?” he questioned, glaring daggers at him.

“Sev, I’m going to be honest with you.” He started and Severus narrowed his eyes, willing him to continue. “You really need to get laid.” He bit out with a smirk.

Severus turned a shade of green that even Salazar Slytherin would be jealous of. “You stupid, insolent, little cretin. Do you think this is a joke?” He shouted.

Okay, so just maybe Draco had taken things a little too far. But wasn't that the point of life? To push boundaries that were meant to remain fixed. As far as he was concerned, his comments were a gift to society.

Draco sighed. “Of course, I don’t, jokes are meant to be funny. This situation makes me laugh far less than it amuses me.” He dramatically drawled.

“You’re impossible. Absolutely impossible.” He spat. “Let me spell it out to you in a way that even your miniature brain would understand.” Draco raised an eyebrow expectantly. “Draco Malfoy Pride badges equal Hufflepuff’s. Hufflepuff’s equal Mudbloods. Mudblood’s equal soft Draco. Soft Draco equals angry Dark Lord. Angry Dark Lord equals dead Draco.” He patronisingly said. “Do you understand?” he asked.

Draco nodded. “I understand perfectly, but I like my Hufflepuff’s and I’m keeping them.” He said firmly.

It was quite funny actually. So, after a few days of Hufflepuff's following his every move, it was hard for a man not to get attached. So, now you could say that Draco had adopted them. And he was most definitely better for it.

Severus glared, “I can’t decide whether you are dumb or just stupid. Since you’ve decided to openly go against the Dark Lord, I must settle on the latter.”

Well, that bloody well hurt. What next? Was Severus going to berate him on his good looks and charming personality?   
  
Draco had always had a sneaky feeling that the greasy haired git had always been jealous of his dazzling smile. Who wouldn’t be? It was fabulous. 

“I’m not outwardly renouncing the Dark Lord. I’m helping him.” he said quickly in an attempt to divert the heat from him.

He'd failed.

“Helping him how?” Severus asked sceptically.

Damn it! Severus and his stupid questions, and his stupid suspicions. Couldn't the man learn to trust once in a while? Honestly, maybe if he had, he wouldn't have nearly as many grey hairs.

Draco sighed rapidly thinking of a bullshit answer.. “What’s better than having Purebloods follow the Dark Lord?” he mused. “Having Purebloods _and_ Mudbloods following him.” he finished, lying straight through his teeth.

Severus’ features softened whilst he contemplated his answer. “Well, I must say Mr Malfoy, you never fail to surprise me. I admit, that does sound like an acceptable plan.”

Draco smirked. “Well of course, it is. I made it.” He boasted and Severus shook his head. “Anyways, I must be off, places to go, people to see, Headmaster’s to kill. I’m very busy.” He mocked walking towards the door.

“Draco!” Severus called out; his voice laced with a rare bout of emotion. Draco eyed him expectantly. “Be careful.” He urged.

Draco smiled. “Always.” He assured him before walking out.

….

Draco stared contemplatively at himself in the mirror, something wasn’t right.

He looked the same as he always did. His eyes were molten silver, his jaw fixed, mouth red and pouted. But something was wrong.

He was going on a date for Merlin’s sake! The same wasn’t bloody well good enough.

But what could he change? What could he change? He wondered thoughtfully. His gaze shifted, his eyes searching, before they came to rest on his slicked back hair. He raised a brow suggestively, now there was something he could change.

It’s not that he didn’t like it when his hair was slicked back, it was more that he absolutely hated it. He looked more like his father, pointy and unapproachable. It’s not like Draco wanted to necessarily seem all that approachable, but judging by his little Hufflepuff fan club, it wouldn’t make that much of a difference.

He coated his hands with water, slowly running them through his hair. He preened. He was no longer Draco Malfoy, Slytherin Prince, and typical Bad Boy. No, he was Draco Malfoy, profound hairstylist, and a friend to all Hufflepuff’s. He smirked, now that was a name he could get on board with.

He finished up his hair with a drying and setting charm, before looking at his reflection intently. Well he didn’t look…bad. 

In fact, he looked kind of good. Less prickly and more defined. Less uptight and more relaxed. The soft waves of his hair framed his face, soft wisps of hair brushing his forehead, bringing out the silver in his grey eyes. 

All and all, Draco thought he looked acceptable.

Draco glanced at the shelve beside him, dread lacing the pits of his stomach. To his right, lay a necklace. He shuddered, he felt physically sick. 

A necklace so innocent but represented the destruction of his own innocence. A necklace that would make him foul, dirty, a killer. A necklace that would result in him living up to his father’s expectations. A necklace that would make him the merciless Death Eater that he’s always been. That he will always be.

With shaky hands he picked up the necklace, storing it safely away in a velvet box. He took a deep breath; it was now or never. He slowly muttered a curse, the darkness of it blinding what lightness was left within him.

Several moments later and he was done. The severity of his actions weighing down on him, his shoulders sagging in defeat. He’d had to do it. He felt tears prick the inner corners of his eyes, threatening to fall. He’d had no choice. It was expected of him.

With one last glance at the poison that stained his hands like a scar, he walked out the door. The last shred of his innocence left behind in the room as he descended the path to destruction.

….

The Hufflepuff’s had gate-crashed his date.

Draco wasn’t even surprised. Currently, Draco and Theo were making their way towards Honeydukes, a band of Hufflepuff's trailing behind them led by Kat.

“Not that I don’t like the Hufflepuff’s.” Theo whispered, “but wasn’t this supposed to be a date?” he asked light-heartedly.

Draco smiled. “Well, you know how it is, the Puffs and I are a package deal. If you can’t accept my Hufflepuff’s then you can’t accept me.” He joked.

Theo laughed, “Then I guess that I’ll have to take them under my wing as well. Because I _really_ like you.” He said honestly.

Draco blushed, opening his mouth to speak but being immediately cut off by Theo, “before I forget, I just wanted to say how amazing I think you look.” He complemented.

Who knew that Theo was quite the charmer? Not Draco.

In fact, Theo had been the perfect date so far. Welcoming, thoughtful, sociable, it was all Draco could've asked for. He didn't like that. It made all of this, all the lies and the deceit, just that much harder.

Draco turned away embarrassed. “You don’t mean that.” He muttered softly.

Theo came to an abrupt stop, lifting Draco’s chin to face him. “Draco, you seriously don’t know how gorgeous you are.” Theo beamed, “Well, let me inform you.” He said matter-of-factly. “You. Are. So. Fucking. Gorgeous!” he exclaimed.

“Ooo Draco’s got a boyfriend. Draco’s got a boyfriend.” The Hufflepuff’s chanted childishly, their little faces gleaming with glee.

Draco glared at them. “Have any of you little monsters ever heard of a gravity hex?” he asked.

They shook their heads. Draco smirked mischievously, pulling out his wand. “Would you care to find out?” he threatened pointedly.

They all shook their heads frantically, their lips firmly glued shut. “Then please do yourselves a favour and do shut up.” He bit out before walking into Honeydukes.

….

Draco was a man on a mission. Well he was a man on a lot of missions, but one served to be of the upmost importance at the present moment.

Draco wanted chocolate.

He really wanted chocolate. He really, really, really wanted chocolate. And he wasn’t going to pay for it. Merlin no! He had been the one asked out on a date, he hadn’t done the asking. He expected Theo to treat him like a gentleman. 

“This one.” Draco excitedly said. “And this one.” He decided. “Oh, and let’s not forget about this one.” He commented throwing yet another box of chocolate on the outrageously large pile in Theo’s hands.

“Merlin Draco! What the hell are you going to do with all this chocolate?” he half-laughed, half-sighed.

Draco blinked, raising a brow. “Shove it up my asshole.” He deadpanned, taking in Theo’s wide grin. “What the _fuck_ do you think I’m going to do with it.”

Theo chuckled. “Where are you going to put it all?” he said gesturing to Draco’s lean frame.

If Draco’s hair was long enough to flick, then he’d have flicked it right about now. “Don’t worry, it’ll fit and you have the Malfoy genes to thank for that.” He boasted.

Theo eyed him hungrily, “Don’t worry, I’m extremely thankful.”

Draco laughed before walking them towards the till. “I guess I’m paying for all of this?” Theo asked as if it were even a question.

“But of course, you’re paying. I’d expected no different.”

Theo shook his head, “you’re a real piece of work Draco.” He joked.

“That I am.” He agreed. “And don’t you forget it.”

….

Draco was nervous. He was _extremely_ nervous.

He was currently sitting in The Leaky Cauldron. He and Theo had picked out a quaint little table near the back of the pub. He knew he should be focusing on Theo and his story about beans, but he had a plan to execute.

The necklace lay in his pocket, a silent reminder of all that he has done. Of what he will continue to do.

Just then, the door swung open and Potter came stomping in, followed by Hermione, Weasley and the Weaselette. 

The Weaselette looked like a beauty project gone terribly, terribly wrong. Had no one ever told her that less was more? What did Potter see in her?

Draco shivered as he made direct eye contact with Potter, shifting slightly in his seat as Potter gave him a confused glare.

_‘The necklace Draco’ a voice taunted. ‘Give her the necklace.’_

“Draco!” Theo said, and Draco blinked turning away from Potter and faced Theo.

Draco gave him a small smile, “Yes?” he asked.

Theo chuckled. “Were you even listening to me?” he asked, a teasing edged to his tone.

No Theo, he wasn’t bloody listening to him. He had the whole plot to kill his Headmaster thing to think about. Seriously, people could be so inconsiderate.

Draco pursed his lips sheepishly, “I can’t say I was. Sorry, I was uhm distracted.” He said honestly.

“What’s been going on with you lately?” Theo asked, his voice laced with concern.

Draco shook his head. “nothing.” He bit out.

Theo gave him a sceptical look. “You don’t have to lie to me Draco, I won’t judge you.” He said kindly and Draco felt his walls begin to crumble.

_‘_ _The necklace, you coward. Give her the necklace’ the voice screamed._

“Yes, you will!” Draco bit out his voice wavering slightly. “Everybody’s judging me. They’re always judging me.” His body started to shake, his palms heating up.

Honestly, he didn't know how much more of this that he could take. There was a point when someone had enough. Where it all became too much. Draco feared that point had surpassed him long ago.

“Draco, who’s judging you? What’s going on?” The frantically asked.

Draco could took a deep breath. He had to calm down, he couldn’t make a scene. Not now, definitely not now.

“I’m fine.” He said trying to come off as emotionless as possible, his heart hurt painfully in his chest at the action.

Theo shook his head reaching over and placing his hand atop of Draco’s. From the corner of his eye, he could see Potter sit up a little straighter as he stared at them intently.

“No, you’re not.” Theo started, drawing circles on the back of his hand, “you can tell me Draco. You can tell me anything.” He reassured.

What did he expect him to say. 'Sorry I'm a tad bothersome, you know, nerves from plotting to kill the Headmaster and all that.' He had a sneaky suspicion that wouldn't go down to well...

So, he lied.

Draco plastered on a fake smile. “I’m fine.” He repeated. “Let’s just go.” Theo nodded when he added, “Can you wait for me outside? I just need to use the bathroom.”

“Okay.” Theo said as Draco started walking towards the bathroom, promptly ignoring Potter’s angry gaze burning holes in his back.

Only, Draco didn’t go to the bathroom.

Instead, he walked right up to Madam Rosmerta, placing the velvet box in front of her.

She gave him a questioning look before opening her mouth to speak, “What’s is all abo—”

_‘This is your only chance.’_

Draco didn’t give her a chance to finish her sentence before whispering Imperio the word felt dirty in his mouth. And as her eyes slowly turned void, Draco felt the last of his innocence slipping away.

He was a monster. He was cruel, ugly, and foul. No better than the Dark Lord himself. In fact, he was worse than the Dark Lord. At least he believed himself to be doing the right thing when he committed his misdeeds, Draco knew what he was doing was wrong, but he still did it. He was a coward.

He deserved a punishment far worse than death.

….

Theo was waiting for him outside, a chirper smile on his face. Draco wanted to wipe that smile right off his face. He didn’t deserve kindness. He should suffer. He needed to suffer.

“All done then?” Theo asked and Draco nodded.

Theo took a step closer towards him, “I had a really good time today.” He said shyly, his face close to Draco’s.

Draco nodded. “Me too.” He replied quietly, trying to forget about what he had just done.Theo gave him a small smile before leaning in. His lips brushed Draco’s carefully, with caution. Draco breathed in before deepening the kiss. He didn’t particularly feel anything. He couldn’t feel anything anymore. But he needed this. He needed something, anything. He needed to feel something other than emptiness.

Theo’s lips were chapped. Moving against Draco’s with small strokes. It hesitant, careful, and soft. There was hardly any tongue. There was no emotion, no passion. There was none of that. It was just…nice.

“What the _fuck_?” an angry growl erupted from behind them.

Draco pulled back abruptly, turning round, and looking into the burning green eyes of Harry Potter. Because of _course_ , it was.

“Problem Potter?” Theo asked with a hit of annoyance.

Potter narrowed his eyes at him. “No. No problem at all.” he spat.

No problem Potter? Really? That vein on your forehead threatening to explode days differently.

“Then if you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something.” Theo said gesturing between himself and Draco.

Potter turned a shade of red darker than humanly possible. “And will you two be getting back to whatever you were doing when I leave?” he challenged.

Theo let out a harsh breath. “Yes, that’s exactly what we’ll be doing.”

What was with all the questions? Why did Potter care so much. He wanted nothing to do with Draco, he'd made that quite clear.

“Are you two together or something?” he questioned glaring heavily at Draco.

Draco blushed, feeling hot under his gaze. “If Draco will have me?” Theo said, staring at Draco expectantly. 

Potter growled, if looks could kill, Theo would be dead three times over. “I don’t think you want to do that, Malfoy.” Potter snarled; his voice promised threat.

Draco looked down at his feet avoiding Potter’s gaze. His heart was beating rapidly within his chest. He was confused. He could understand why Potter was acting like this. What did he want with him?

“Why doesn’t he want to do what?” Theo asked.

Potter sneered at him. “Go out with you.” He answered simply.

What was he meant to say to that? What did Potter _want_ him to say? There was nothing he could say that would make much sense at the moment, so he kept his lips firmly shut.

Theo’s nostrils flared, his hands shaking with anger. “And how do you know that?” he questioned harshly, and Draco's heart squeezed a little.

Yes, how indeed did Potter know that?

“He knows the answer to that question.” Potter gestured towards Draco, “don’t you Malfoy?” he asked condescendingly.

Draco let out a small sob, his body threatening to shake with tears. He didn’t like this. He didn’t like this at all.

Theo took an almost calm breath, “I think you should leave, Potter.” It was calm. Too calm. A calmness like that in a situation like this, well.. that was dangerous.

Potter scoffed. “Do you want me to leave Malfoy?” he questioned and Draco froze.

Potter looked at him expectantly, his foot tapping nervously beneath him. Draco remained silent.

Theo turned towards Draco, his features softening. “Would you like that Draco?” he asked with care and Draco nodded. He couldn’t be around Potter, not when he was like this. 

He wanted his Potter. The one who told him stories about his childhood. The one who spoke of his hopes and dreams so passionately. The one that made Draco feel like more than a disgusting Death Eater. Where was he? Where was _his_ Potter?

“Well then. I guess it’s time for you to leave.” Theo almost ordered.

Potter’s eyes flashed with hurt before turning to stone. “You’re choosing him over me?” he said slowly.

Draco wanted to scream. He wanted to shout NO he wasn’t choosing Theo over him. That he didn’t think that he could choose anyone over him. And that hurt. It hurt so much. It also scared him. It scared him so far to the point that he didn’t know if he could come back from it. It terrified him. It terrified him because he didn’t know why. And that was a realisation scarier than death.

“Wow. That’s just pathetic Malfoy, after everything?” Draco couldn’t look at him, he couldn’t face him.

“I swear to Merlin Malfoy—” 

“Harry!” Hermione snapped, glaring at him with her arms folded tightly across her chest. Weasley was there too, looking at his best friend with shame.

She sighed angrily, “That’s enough.” She stated and Weasley nodded.

“But—” Potter started and Hermione shook her head. 

Her eyes softened when she took in Potter’s distressed state. “Leave it Harry, come on lets go.” She extended her hand towards him.

Potter shook his head. “But it hurts Hermione. It hurts so much.”

What hurts? Goddamn it! What hurts?

“I know it does. I know.” She said in deep understanding, grasping his hand.

Potter sniffled. “Why does it hurt so goddamn much?” he begged her for an answer.

“I don’t know Harry. I really don’t know.” She whispered as she started to pull Harry away both her and Weasley shooting Draco and apologetic glance before leaving.

Theo looked down on Draco in concern. “Are you okay?” He asked.

Draco shook his head, tears spilling down his face. “Please just take me home. Take me back to Hogwarts.” Draco begged and Theo nodded as they began their journey home.

….

Draco couldn’t breathe.

He was currently in the Slytherin dorms in his bed, letting the tears fall freely. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know what to think. What was going on with Potter? What had Draco done to make him feel as he did?

He was tired. He was so bloody tired. Of everything. Of the pain. Of the suffering. Of whatever he felt towards Potter. He didn’t exactly know how he felt, but he knew that it was quite strong. There was no point denying it. Draco Malfoy cared about Harry Potter.

He knew he shouldn’t. He wasn’t stupid. He knew that Potter treated him like shit during the day. But at night, at night Potter spoke to him like he was a fucking human being. And Draco needed it. He needed it so much.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy!” A familiar voice spat. “Why did I have to find out from a bloody Hufflepuff first year that—” 

Pansy stopped abruptly as she laid eyes on him, “Oh Draco.” She whispered bringing him into a tight squeeze. “It’s okay, it’s going to be okay. I’m here. I’m here.” She soothed running her fingers through his hair gently.

It felt nice, safe, to have another person hold you. A person that you trusted, that you loved. So Draco let it out, he let it _all_ out.

Draco let out a deep cry. Tears stained her robes as he let out a waterfall of sadness. “I’m such an idiot Pansy. Why am I like this? Why is this me?” he let out a distraught sob.

“There’s nothing wrong with you Draco.” She assured him.

She was wrong, there was everything wrong with him. 

He shook his head. “There is. There is. There’s so much wrong with me.” He choked out.

She sighed. “No there isn’t. I promise you there isn’t. Shhh. Shhh. I understand. I understand.”

How could she say that? How could she lie like that? Was it meant to reassure him, or make him feel better? Well, it didn't. No, he just felt worse.

“No, you don’t!” He howled pulling abruptly away from her. “You can’t understand. Nobody understands.” He cried.

She shook her head, her eyes brimming with tears. “I do Draco. I do.” She repeated.

“No, you don’t.” He screamed. “You don’t know how much it hurts. To look into the mirror and hate what you see. To know that you’re nothing but a pathetic failure.”

She looked up at him in concern. “Draco..” she stared.

He dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “No don’t give me that. I don’t want your pity.” That was the one thing he couldn't take.

Pity. It was such a belittling emotion, one that someone felt when they didn't know what to do. When they didn't know how to help. He didn't need it. He didn't need it at all. 

Pansy took a deep intake of breath. Tears running down her cheeks. 

“I hate it. I hate it so much. I just want it to stop. I want everything to stop.” He howled in pain.

It was too much. It was _all_ too much.

He missed the days where he could just curl up into his mother's arms, safe from any harm that would come his way. What was he now? _What_ was he now?

He'll tell you what, someone that his mother would never be proud of, that's who.

“Please.” He begged looking at her straight in the eyes. “Make it stop.”

She cried. Pulling him into another embrace. They stayed like that for several minutes, seeking comfort in one another before Draco pulled away.

“And Potter” he started again, “I don’t know how to feel towards him.” he admitted, and he felt his head start to spin.

He hated it. He hated showing his emotions. He hated being so vulnerable. So weak. 

Ashamed. He was ashamed of what he had been reduced to. Of what Potter had reduced him to. Of what the world had reduced him to. Of what he had reduced himself to.

Pansy sighed. “I know _exactly_ how you should feel about him.” she spat.

He raised a brow. “How?” he asked.

“You should hate him.” she said simply. “You should absolutely hate him.” she urged him, and Draco wanted to scream.

What wasn't clicking? What part of this didn't she understand. He wanted to hate him. He so desperately wanted to hate him. But he could never. He _would_ never.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t hate him. I could never hate him. Not anymore.” He decided.

Pansy stared at him in disbelief. “But he’s horrible to you Draco. I see the glares he sends you; I know that he laughs at you when your down. What he did today was just the icing on the bloody cake.” She said frantically.

Draco sniffed, raking a hand through his messy locks. “You don’t understand. You don’t know how it is when we’re alone. You don’t know what he tells me or how he treats me.” He defended.

“Then tell me. Help me to understand.” She urged.

Draco took a deep breath. “He’s kind to me. He tells me wonderful stories. He’s patient with me. He doesn’t ask for more than I’m willing to offer. He makes me feel special. He makes me feel safe.” He said, half-admitting it all to himself.

Pansy looked torn. “What else does he do?” she asked.

Draco’s face fell slightly. “Sometimes he’s mean to me. Sometimes he calls me pathetic or a Death Eater. He does things he know will upset me. It hurts when he’s like that.” He saw the scared look on her face. “But that’s only sometimes. And it’s only during the day. At night he’s perfect. At night he makes me happy.” He tried to reassure her.

Once again, tears formed in the crests of her eyes. “Draco” she whispered cautiously. “That’s not healthy.” She said gently.

What was truly healthy? What did anyone define healthy by? It may have not been the standard that most were accustomed to, but it was _his_.

Draco shook his head frantically. “I don’t care. I don’t care.” He spat out in panic.

Pansy shot him a sad look. “I know you don’t. But you should. One of you is going to end up seriously hurt and I’ll bet my last Knut that it’ll be you.” She attempted.

Draco’s eyes widened in fear. “No. No. No. No.” he raked a hand through his hair anxiously. “I need him Pans. I need him so much.” he begged her, clutching the hem of her robe tight.

Pansy brought him in for a third embrace. “Okay, okay darling. You need him. I get it. I really do.” She muttered softly.

“Draco?” another voice said.

He pulled away from Pansy to face the worried stance of Blaise. “Are you okay?” he asked hesitantly.

Draco shook his head. “No, but I will be.” He spoke surely.

Blaise smiled. “In that case, there’s a couple of Gryffindor’s waiting outside for you. They said it was important.” He informed and Draco nodded.

He shot Pansy one last reassuring smile, received a soft squeeze from Blaise and left the dorm in a swirl of robes.

….

Hermione and Weasley were waiting for him outside of the Slytherin common room, worry dusted their faces.

He knew from their tired smiles that something was wrong. That something was going to happen. He made his way towards them, with something acute to dread pooling in his stomach.

Hermione smiled when she saw him. “Draco how are you feeling?” she asked honestly.

How was he feeling? He didn't know. He really didn't know.

Draco took a deep breath. “Not all that well.” He decided. “But I’ll get better.”

They both nodded their heads in understanding. “I’m sorry for what happened to you in Hogsmeade mate.” Weasley supplied. looking quite ashamed.

“Thank you Weasley.” Draco acknowledged.

Weasley smiled. “Harry was way out of order.” He said.

When was Potter not completely out of order? It was like second nature to him. Perfect Potter really wasn’t all that perfect if you asked him.

Draco nodded. “Yes, he really was.” He agreed.

Hermione looked up at him with troubled eyes. “I don’t condone his actions at all. But you’ve got to understand, he’s not being himself at all.” she tried to offer him and Draco could laugh at the excuse.

Not being himself at all? Seriously? Draco was currently in a life or death position. Watching his life be ripped from his clutches, and you didn't see him screaming at people.

Draco stared at her in bafflement. “What do you mean?” he questioned intently.

“Ever since he’s been back, he’s been different. One minute he’s hot, the next he’s cold. He snaps for no reason. We just don’t know what to do.” She sighed in defeat.

He guessed he could understand it. People dealt with things in different ways. It didn't mean they were right, but it also didn't mean that their actions were beyond understanding.

Draco shook his head. “Is there anything I can do?” he asked genuinely.

Weasley gave him a hesitant glance. “Actually mate, you’re part of the problem.” He muttered.

And there it was! The words he was waiting to hear. The words he had always known himself to be.

A problem.

It seemed ever so fitting for a man of his capability.

Draco’s eyebrows shot up to his hairline. “What?” he choked out in surprise.

“It’s not your fault.” Hermione said quickly, “It’s just that he’s rather obsessed with you.” She explained.

He gave her a confused look, as she carried on. “He spends every minute of his free time looking at your dot of that stupid map of his!” she huffed.

“What map?” Draco asked.

She shook her head. “That’s beside the point.” She stated diplomatically.

Weasley intervened. “The point is, that it’s not healthy.”

Where had he heard that before? Oh yes, only two bloody minutes prior. It was if Pansy and the Gryffindor's had planned this. Some kind of Draco Malfoy intervention. Well, he wouldn't stand for it.

Draco narrowed his eyes at them. “So, are you both here to tell me to back the hell off?” he spat bitterly.

“Something like that.” Weasley said and Draco growled.

Hermione looked at him pleadingly. “Don’t for one-minute think it’s because we think you’re not good enough for him, because it’s not.” She assured him, completely ignorant.

That was the problem. Draco _wasn't_ good enough for him. He didn't think he'd ever be. But he wanted to try. He wanted to try so badly.

“I just want to be his friend.” He whispered.

Weasley’s eyes softened. “You and I both know that whatever your relationship is, it’s not friendship.” he gave him a pointed look that Draco couldn't help but disagree with.

Draco shook his head. “It’s not like that. He’s with the Weasele— I mean Girl Weasley.” He countered.

Weasley growled. “Don’t remind me. I hate what he’s doing to my sister. Playing her like she’s a toy. “ he spat. “Although I can’t place the blame all on Harry. She’s only with him because he’s the bloody Boy Who Lived, she’s blinded by the fame and fortune. They’re both as bad as each other.” He resolved.

Hermione gave him a thoughtful look. “Maybe if he spent half as much time working on his relationship as he spends looking at you, then they’d probably have a shot at something real.” She mused.

Weasley sighed. “Anyways mate, it’s you who he looks at. You who he drones on and on about. You who he goes out of his way to find. You who he obsesses over.” He started and Draco looked at him in disbelief. “Whatever’s going on between the two of you is downright mad.” 

Draco nodded, because he couldn’t argue with that. “What do you expect me to do about it?” he offered.

Hermione glanced at him solemnly, “Please just stay away.” She whispered and Draco felt his hear smash into two.

“I know that it probably hurts.” She carried on. “It’s just that Harry’s extremely unstable right now. One of you are going to end up getting seriously hurt if you both carry on like this.” She said mimicking Pansy from just moments before.

Draco knew what they were saying was right. Potter and he were both broken. They were both fragile, full of deep hurt and destruction. He should stay away. He knew that he should stay away.

 _But sometimes two broken pieces make a beautiful whole_. A treacherous part of Draco supplied and he felt himself start to fall apart.

Hermione pulled him into a hug. “I’m sorry Draco. I’m so, so sorry.” She sobbed. “But please, just stay away, it’s for your own good.” She warned, before pulling away. Weasley gave him a gentle clap on the back before they walked away.

Draco let out a cry. He knew that he had to stay away. He just didn’t know if he could.

….

Draco was sitting at the Great Lake when a presence appeared beside him.

“I’m sorry.” Potter said quietly.

Draco ignored him, focusing his attention on the lake before him.

Potter took a deep breath. “I just lose it when I’m around you. I get so angry and I just can’t control it.” he sighed.

He could understand that. He really could. But that didn't make it hurt any less. He wished it did. He really did.

“You make me crazy Malfoy.” He admitted.

He smiled a sad smile. “I know that I should stay away. That I should run away and never look back. That what we have going on between us is an all-consuming destruction.” He said absently.

“But I can’t. I need you Malfoy. I need you so much.” He sobbed, his voice laced with vulnerability and Draco’s heart broke for a second time that evening.

He couldn’t do this.

Abruptly, Draco stood up and started to walk back towards the castle. He was a coward. Draco was dangerous. He was a Death Eater. Draco had to save him from himself.

Red hot rears were streaming uncontrollably down his cheeks. He didn’t dare look back, because if he did it would all be over. He’d run straight back into Potter’s arms, the place where he felt safest in the world.

For the first time in a really long time, they did not watch the sunrise together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So that ending broke my heart. Harry's insecurities are staring to make an appearance. A lil teaser for the next chapter: Drarry, Drarry and did I say Drarry?!  
> Once again comments and kudos are much appreciated! They keep me writing :)


	5. Chapter Five.

Potter was _touching_ him.

It wasn’t much. A quick brush of the hand as he walked past, or a brief pat on his lower back if he came up behind him.

Draco was so confused.

It was the day. Potter wasn’t supposed to be nice to him during the day. The touches felt like fireworks on his skin. The attention was something he craved.

Draco knew that he couldn’t give into it. He’d just ended whatever the hell this was with Potter. He thought that it would’ve made him feel better, that ending it was the only choice. He still felt that way, but that didn’t make it hurt any less.

It also didn’t help that ever since last night, Potter had been following him everywhere.

And he meant _everywhere_.

He was worse than the bloody Hufflepuff's. Much, much worse. At least the Hufflepuff’s made it known that they were following Draco. Potter on the other hand, thought himself to be a bit of spy. Draco would think it was pathetic, if he didn’t already feel a bit sorry for the git.

If Draco was in the corridor with his Hufflepuff’s then Potter was hidden behind a pillar. If Draco was in class, then Potter was waiting outside. If Draco was alone… well, he didn’t want to think about that.

Draco had ‘bumped’ into Potter more times than he could count, and it was only midday. He’d didn’t rather fancy bring up the consequence that Potter’s stalking had on the little task the Dark Lord had set him.

After the disaster that was the whole necklace debacle, oh yes, had he mentioned that he had failed?

An innocent girl had gotten hurt, Madam Rosmerta would perhaps never forgive him, his innocence was lost, and for what? The old crow was still alive and kicking and the Boy Who Lived to obsessively stalk Draco Malfoy still hadn’t gotten the hint and backed off.

It was all extremely exhausting.

Draco had planned to work on the nuisance that was the vanishing cabinet. He hated that cabinet. He hated it’s smirk. He hated it’s smile. He hated it’s fucking laugh. When this was all over, Draco would take extreme pleasure in killing it. Who’d be laughing then? Definitely not that blasted cabinet, because it would be dead. Sucks to be it.

All Draco wanted to do was plan his Headmaster’s demise in peace. Was that too bloody much to ask?

It also didn’t help all that much that Draco kind of liked Potter’s stalking. It was pathetic. No, he was pathetic. He couldn’t help it. Potter’s stalking made him feel wanted. Less alone. As if Potter actually cared about him.

He knew that he shouldn’t feel that way, that it was dangerous. But he couldn’t help it.

Anyways, he wasn’t likely to run into Potter if he was with his Hufflepuff’s. His Hufflepuff’s kept him safe and Potter only approached Draco when he was alone.

He turned around to smile at his Hufflepuff’s only to met with nothing. Oh no, where were his Hufflepuff’s? If they weren’t there than that meant Draco was alone, and if Draco was alone…

Shit.

“Malfoy.” A strong confident voice said from behind him.

Draco looked up into the blazing green eyes of Harry Potter. Because _of course_ it was.

“You didn’t stay to watch the sunrise.” He bit out with a hint of sadness. Draco looked at the ground. Rub it in Potter! Make him feel worse than he already did.

Potter sighed. “Why didn’t you stay to watch the sunrise?” he asked. “Why did you leave me? Don’t you care?” he asked again his voice cracking.

Draco kept his gaze fixed firmly on the ground beneath him. He couldn’t look up. If he did, then it was all over. He wasn’t strong enough. He couldn’t deny Potter.

“I told you things Malfoy. Things I’ve never told anyone before. Things I want to tell you and only you.” He started. “I was vulnerable with you. I told you that I needed you. And you left me. Why did you leave me?” he whispered that last part, his voice wavering and breaking.

Draco wanted to scream. He wanted to tell Potter that he didn’t want to. That the nights kept him sane. That _their_ nights kept him alive. He wanted to say that he was doing this for his own good. That he was keeping Potter safe. That he was keeping Potter away from him.

But he couldn’t.

He couldn’t speak to Potter. He would never speak to Potter. He knew that he didn’t deserve to. The second he spoke to Potter he’d be giving in. He’d give into a pleasure that a Death Eater like himself didn’t deserve.

So, instead of looking at Potter. Instead of facing him like he knew Potter deserved. He did the only thing he could do. The only thing a coward would do.

He ran.

….

He kept on running. He ran and ran without a care in the world for the intrusive looks he was getting. 

He had to get away. He had to get far, far away.

Draco didn’t know for how long he’d ran, but he came to a stop inside a little alcove. He pressed up against the wall, with the intention of catching his breath. He was slowly coming to the opinion that maybe having that extra sausage at breakfast hadn’t been one of his brightest moments.

“What are you doing here?” a frilly voice spat.

Draco looked up to face a puffy eyed Lavender Brown. The girl looked like she’d just gotten into a ferocious battle with a Crup. And had lost. Badly.

“I said. What. Are. You. Doing. Here?” she seethed again.

Draco shrugged. “Not that it’s any of your business, but I was running.” He answered.

She rolled her eyes, “I wasn’t asking what you were doing before you got here. I asked what the hell are you doing here?” she growled.

Draco shook his head patronisingly before sliding down the wall. “Touchy, touchy.” He teased. “Who shat in your breakfast?” he quipped.

Part of him winced at his words. They were harsh, even for him. But, sadly you could take the boy out of Slytherin but you could _never_ take Slytherin out of the boy.

“That is none of _your_ concern.” She bit out. “Anyways, I was here first, so do us both a favour and get the fuck out.” She snarled.

Draco was surprised to find that he’d started to laugh. And not your average little laugh. No. his laugh was as big as a Hippogriff. 

Hippogriff’s. Disgusting creatures. They deserved a punishment worse than death. He hated those bloody chickens.

“What’s so funny?” she asked accusingly.

“I have no idea.” He spat out in between puffs of laughter. “But I’ll tell you what, it feels fucking amazing.” he assured her, tears of joy streaming down his cheeks. It felt good to laugh. It felt _really_ good to laugh.

She smiled, and to his upmost surprise started to laugh right along with him. If anyone would’ve happened to come across them, they’d be cast off as crazy. But that didn’t much matter, they needed this. 

After several moments of laughter, Lavender sighed. “I just don’t understand.” She stated sadly.

“Don’t understand what?” he enquired.

She took a deep breath. “I’ve done everything. I laugh at his stupid jokes. I help him with his homework. I glam myself up with makeup. But he still doesn’t notice me.”

“Who?” he asked, with genuine interest.

She shook her head. “If you think I’m going to tell you that, then you’re absolutely barmy.” She said.

Ah! This girl had a little piece of Slytherin in her. You couldn't tell him differently. He wouldn't hear of it.

Draco nodded. “Fair enough.” He agreed. “So, do you really like him then?” he questioned.

“Yeah. I like him so, so much.” She muttered dreamily. “Oh, I’m such an idiot.”

Draco didn’t trust himself to say anything. Because she was a little bit of an idiot. Okay, she was a lot of an idiot. She looked like one too.

“What shall I do?” 

He shot her a smirk, “you’re a Gryffindor right?” he said almost mischievously.

She nodded. “Yes, but what does that have anything to do with it?” she eyed him sceptically.

He rolled his eyes. “Hush, I was just getting to that.” He informed her. “Well, if I were a big brave Gryffindor, then I’d grab his fat head and plant one on him, right in public for the world to see.”

She sniffed. “That’s completely mad.” she gasped out.

Draco shrugged. “What’s wrong with being a little mad. Normal is totally overrated.” He teased the baffled girl.

“Do you really think it would work?” she asked albeit hesitantly.

“Of course, I thought of it.” she said and she glared at him. “Besides, even if it doesn’t, you walk out of it with a kiss. It’s a win-win situation.” He decided.

She sighed, “are you sure?” Was he sure? Was _he_ sure? That had to be some sort of trick question. Barmy. Absolutely barmy!

He grinned. “Most definitely. You may be a confident, brave Gryffindor, but I’m a sneaky, sly Slytherin. We Slytherin’s don’t indulge in anything which means do not justify the ends. Self-preservation and all that.” He half-joked, half-assured.

She shot him a smile before rising to her feet. “Well then, I think I might just do that.” She eyed him contemplatively, “I still don’t like you Malfoy.” She declared. “But thank you.” She said sincerely.

“It was nothing.” He nodded at her as she left the little alcove. 

He took a deep breath. Sometimes, he wished he were a Gryffindor. He’d have the strength to grab what he wanted by the balls. The strength to chose death over life in favour of doing the right thing. But alas, he was a Slytherin.

And Slytherin’s were cowards.

….

Draco had never been more embarrassed.

The Slytherin’s were currently losing 60 to 120 against the Ravenclaw’s in their quidditch match against them. It was a complete massacre.

“And this, is why you should have never quit the team Draco darling.” Pansy informed him lightly.

Blaise nodded his head in agreement. “You’ve killed us Draco. You’ve absolutely killed us.” He teased.

Draco sighed. “What in Merlin’s name did I do to deserve such dramatic friends?” He joked. But was it really a joke. _Was_ it?

“Well there was that one time you shaved all of Blaise’s hair off because you feared it was nicer than yours.” Pansy countered.

Oh she did _not_ just bring that up. Whta part of an accident did these idiots not understand?

Blaise smirked, “well, my hair is pretty fabulous.” He said cockily. “There was also that time where you decapitated all of Pansy’s dolls because you thought they were quote on quote ‘blood-thirsty monsters intent on draining ones intelligence and individuality.” He laughed.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “They were pesky little creatures, not fit for efficient adolescent stimulation. I was well in my rights to do away with them.” He muttered grumpily.

“You were four.” Pansy deadpanned.

Blaise grinned, “Let’s also not forget the time that—

“Yes, yes. I get it. But all I’m hearing is that I was beyond awesome but still got dumped with you dramatic gits as friends.” He brushed them off.

Pansy scoffed. “Dramatic? We’re bloody _dramatic_?” she spat out exasperatedly, “Draco your mini temper tantrums put Snape to shame.” Putter old Snape to shame... he could get on board with that.

Draco glared at her, “you’re going to kill me. Your poor judge of character and absmayl reasoning is actually going to kill me. Cause of death: idiotic imbeciles.” He snarled. 

“Draco darling, don’t you think you’re being a tad dramatic?” she asked him and he glared at her. He was _not_ dramatic for Merlin's sake!

He growled, “Well, I’m _sorry_ if I feel the need to make my inevitably early death known.” He bit out.

Blaise laughed. “What are we going to do with you Draco?”

“Make sure that my funeral is prestige and honourable.” He said hopefully, “I want the best of the best. My robes will be flawless, my corpse will smell like bloody roses.” He heaved, “And you will _both_ shed an abundance of tears, or Merlin help me, I’ll rise from the dead and strangle your brains out.” He threatened.

Pansy shook her head. “I don’t quite think that’s how it all works.” she mused and Draco wanted to hex her fat gob shut.

He raised a brow, “Would you care to test that theory?” he challenged her, and they all burst into a fit of laughter.

Maybe he was a little bit on the dramatic side. But what did that matter? All the best people were.

….

Potter had gone round the bend.

He was crazy, a complete nutter. A spontaneous, angry, idiot who was currently ranting and raving like a bloody lunatic.

Draco had been having a pretty average dinner in the Great Hall when the Gryffindor table had erupted into a bout of screams and shouts.

“No, it’s not fucking okay, Ron.” Potter shouted and the Hall went silent. Seriously, you couldn't even hear a pin drop.

Weasley took a deep breath, “calm down mate, why don’t we take this outside yeah?” he said carefully.

Potter shook his head. “I don’t want to take this outside. No, I want the bloody world to hear.” He spat, his eyes wide, pupils blown.

Draco felt something very similar to dread start to wash over him. This was bad. This was very, very bad.

“Harry, please clam down.” Hermione hesitantly tried.

Potter narrowed his eyes at her. “Calm down?” he snarled. “You want me to fucking clam down.” He swore. “Well, guess fucking what. I’m. Not. Fucking. Calm.” 

This pained Draco. It really it. He'd always pegged Potter as someone who had it altogether. Despite the odds, he thought him to be a generally calm person.

But to see this, to see him on the verge of some sort of breakdown. Well, Draco couldn't put into words exactly how he felt.

Both Weasley and Hermione gave him pleading looks. “I’m sick of this! I’m sick of everyone interfering, thinking that they know what’s best for me.” He carried on, “well newsflash, none of you bloody well do.” He seethed.

He carried on, eyes red and puffy. “I hate this. I hate you two interfering with everything. None of this is any of your damn business.” he snarled at them.

“We just wanted to help.” Hermione offered quietly.

Potter’s eyes blazed with anger. “Help?” he spat out ludicrously, “You two wanted to fucking help?” He raged.

Everyone looked at him in fear as his face turned a deep shade of red. “You didn’t bloody help. No, you two made it worse.” He glared at them.

“Harry, mate—”

“No shut up. Shut the fuck up.” He snarled at Weasley. “Can’t you see? Don’t you understand? He won’t even bloody look at me anymore!” he screamed.

 _He_? The pits of Draco’s stomach filled with dread. What was Potter talking about? Who was he talking about? Draco let out a choked sob, fearing that he already knew.

“It wasn’t all that great before.” He started. “He didn’t much talk to me. He didn’t really interact with me. But at least he bloody well acknowledged my existence!” he huffed out.

Potter stood up abruptly. “Now he doesn’t even do that. When I talk to him, he walks away. When he sees me, he walks in a different direction. He doesn’t respond to my touches or voice. And it’s only been a day. It’s only been a fucking _day_ and I’m already going mad.” He cried out and Draco’s heart broke.

“Oh Harry…” Hermione sniffed with sadness.

Potter shook his head. “I don’t want your pity.” He snarled.

 _Pity_. Draco could understand that. He could really understand that. He tried to picture himself in Potter's shoes, tried to feel what he possible felt.

The pain that threatened to engulf him was overwhelming.

“Then what do you want?” she pleaded.

He mocked laughed at her. “I want you two to bloody acknowledge what you’ve done. To realise how good everything was before you intervened. To see how badly, you’ve both messed this up.” He choked out.

Weasley sighed. “I’m sorry mate, we were just doing what we thought was right. It was unhealthy.” He started and Potter glared.

“I don’t give two craps if it was unhealthy or not. It was mine. He was mine.” He howled, tears glistening the crests of his eyes

Draco couldn’t look. It had been four months since their first encounter at the lake. Four months of meeting up every single night. Four months of Harry talking and Draco listening. Four months of him sharing his deepest fears and happiest thoughts. Four months of handholding and watching the sunrise.

It wasn’t perfect. It was far from perfect. Potter would call him names, Draco refused to speak to him. It was unexpected, fragile, and scary. But it was also wonderful. Their nights made him feel like everything was okay. That there was no Dark Lord or that he was a Death Eater. No, Potter made him feel like Draco. Just _Draco._

“I need it.” Potter gasped, pulling Draco from his thoughts. “I need _him_.” he whispered almost pleadingly.

A small cough came from the teachers table. “Harry, my boy.” Dumbledore started, and Potter whipped his head round to face him, a stony look on his face.

“Don’t even get me started on _you_.” Potter spat at a very shocked Headmaster. 

The Headmaster took a deep breath, “why don’t we go to my office?” he offered calmly.

Potter let out a scoff. “Oh, so _now_ you’ve finally realised that I fucking exist.” He swore in mock laughter. 

“Of course, I realise that you exist.” The Headmaster reassured.

Potter shrieked. “With all due respect, Headmaster. Do shut up.” He stated and the students gasped.

Draco had to admit, the Headmaster had that one coming. You don't simply interact with a man that's just gone off the edge, and expect not to get burned. It just wasn't possible.

Potter brushed them off, paying them hardly any attention. “You’ve been ignoring me ever since the start of the year. But now I pop the fuck of, you’ve seemed to acknowledge my bloody existence. How nice to be noticed by you Headmaster.” He sneered.

The Headmaster opened his moth to speak but was immediately silenced by Potter’s growl. “You know what? I’m done with your fucking shit.” He announced stepping away from the Gryffindor table, “have fun fighting Voldemort without me, because I’m done.” He added with finality, the Dark Lord’s name sent shivers down Draco’s spine.

Potter narrowed his eyes, stomping away from the Gryffindor table with determination. Draco’s eyes trailed him as he walked towards the doors. 

Although, instead of walking out the doors he took a sharp turn left, an annoyed look dusting his features as he made his way towards the Slytherin table, to Draco’s complete dismay and surprise.

Potter stopped right in front of Draco, and his heart split in two, he felt sick to his stomach. “And you.” Potter spat and Draco’s cheeks started to heat up.

“You’re fucking worse than all of them combined.” He seethed.

Draco didn’t know where to look, so he settled on the ground. Potter scoffed. “Why do you never look at me Malfoy?” he asked. “Why do you never bloody talk to me?”

Draco felt Kat’s small hand lock with his, giving him a reassuring squeeze. He couldn't say anything to Potter. Not even if he wanted to.

“Why are you always fucking ignoring me?” he questioned desperately. “Can’t you see that it hurts?” he cried, and Draco froze.

Potter took an intake of breath, “it hurts so much.” He said with a shaky breath. “And I don’t know what to do. I don’t know why I feel like this. Why you make me feel like this. Hell, I don’t even know what I feel like, never mind what _this_ is.” He said, gesturing between Draco and himself.

“I want to hate you. I want to hate you so goddamn much. But I can’t. I fucking can’t. And that scares the shit out of me.” he said and Draco didn't know what to do.

He didn't know. He _really_ didn't know. He had no idea that Potter had felt this strongly. He barely understood how he felt himself.

How was he supposed to help if he couldn't even come to terms with his own feelings?

Potter stared at Draco intently, “Tell me.” He started. “Tell me what to do. Stop ignoring me and talk to me for Merlin’s sake.” He pleaded.

There was silence for several moments before Potter growled, “Are you still not going to speak to me?” he asked.

“Are you seriously not going to speak to me.” He repeated again, “after all that?” he gave a defeated sigh.

He scoffed. “I don’t know why I expected any better.” He snarled. “You’re a coward Malfoy.” He spat. “You’re a fucking coward.” He said once more before stomping out of the Great Hall.

The Hall was left in complete silence, disbelief plastered on everyone’s faces.

“Are you okay?” Kat whispered in concern, her ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ badge shining proudly.

Draco shook his head. “No” he choked out, a single tear running down his cheek.

….

Draco was sitting in the Slytherin common room alone. He’d screamed at the few Slytherin’s who had come up after dinner, telling them to go the fuck away.

He was currently sitting on his ’throne’, visibly shaking. Potter’s outburst a few moments ago was unexpected and had completely rattled him. He didn’t know what to say or do. It was too much. It was all too much.

Suddenly, the common room door slammed open, and Theo walked in, planting a quick kiss on Draco’s cheek before sitting down.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

Did he look okay? He'd just been shouted at in front of the entire school. He was scared, embarrassed, ashamed, And don't even get him starting on the whole mess that was Harry Potter.

Draco huffed. “I really wish everyone would stop asking me that. He bit out. “Do you think that I’m _fucking_ okay?”

Theo sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” Draco nodded in acceptance. “So, what’s going on between you and Potter?” He asked hesitantly.

“Nothing.” Draco muttered.

Theo raised a brow. “Really? Because it didn’t look like nothing.”

Would he just stop intruding? Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “It doesn’t matter if it was nothing or if it wasn’t. I don’t see how any of it is your business.” He quipped.

“Well, since Potter acted like a bloody lunatic, making your relationship appear to be anything but platonic.” He started and Draco cringed. “Then yeah, it is my business.” He finished.

Draco growled. “He’s not a lunatic.” He defended, absently thinking of his hypocrisy.

Theo huffed. “You’re even defending him!” he pointed out. “Draco Lucius Malfoy defending perfect Potter, how can you defend him, then tell me that things between you two are just platonic?” he almost demanded.

Draco shook his head. “They are platonic.” He hoped his words didn't sound as shaky as they did to his won ears.

“Don’t lie to me Draco.” He urged.

Draco sighed, knowing that he was fighting a losing battle. “Fine.” He bit out. “I have no bloody idea what we are or were should I say.” he said.

Theo looked at him, startled. And Draco took his silence as confirmation to carry on. He didn't know who needed to hear this more, Theo or _himself_. 

“I do, however, know how I felt when I was with him though.” Draco carried on. “I felt free. As if all my problems just dissolved when I was with him. I felt strong, not weak. I felt accepted, cared about. I felt needed. As if he needed me as much as I needed him.” he said. “I still need him.” Draco admitted.

Theo looked at him in shock, “and how do you feel now?” he asked.

That was the million dollar question. How _did_ he feel now? He could lie. He could shake his head in defiance and say that he felt absolutely nothing towards Potter.

But then that would be a lie.

And he was tired of lying. He was so, so tired. Lying was a choice. He didn't have many of those. But with the ones he did have. Well, he'd be a fool not to use them wisely.

Draco took a trembling breath, “the same.” He said quietly. “But it doesn’t matter. Not anymore.”

“Why doesn’t it matter?" he questioned intently.

Draco shook his head. “It just doesn’t.” he replied hoping Theo would take the hint and just leave him be.

“Yes, but why—”

He slammed his hands to his side in annoyance. “I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” Draco cut in.

Theo sighed. “I know you don’t but—”

Draco stood up abruptly. “I said _no_ Theo.” He glowered. “I need to go anyways.” He stated.

In all honesty, he would have left even if he had no where in particular to go. Theo's questions were becoming too much. It was _all_ becoming too much. He had to leave. He had to go. If not, then he was sure that he'd explode.

“Where are you going?” Theo questioned, eyeing him sceptically.

Again, it wasn't any of his business, Draco told the truth anyways. “To meet Weasley, we have a potions project to finish.” He answered.

Theo scoffed. “I really don’t think that Weasley will show up, especially after the stunt that Potter pulled earlier.” he told him.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t care. I still have to stir the potion, whether he shows up or not.” He snapped, before stomping out of the common room.

….

To Draco’s complete and utter surprise, Weasley was sat at a desk stirring their potion with the upmost concentration and care.

“The world has _got_ to be coming to an end.” Draco commented. “Because why else would Ronald Billius Weasley actually be doing potions work?” he teased.

Weasley’s ears went the colour of his hair. “How do you know my middle name?” he asked sceptically.

Yes, how _did_ Draxo know Weasley's middle name. Has his Potter obsession been a Weasley obsession all along? He wouldn't be all that surprised by that. After all, gingers were the new brunets.

Draco shrugged. “I know a lot about a lot of things.” He answered cryptically.

“I’m not even going to pretend that’s not creepy mate.” He tutted.

Draco shrugged. “I can’t say I’m all that bothered.” He quirked. “Anyways, how’s the potion coming along?” he asked, taking a seat next to Weasley.

Weasley gave out a sigh of disinterest. “It’s as good as a potion gets, I guess.” he commented. 

How rude. As good as a potion gets. Did he have any idea how breathtakingly flawless their potions was. Idiot. The lot of them were. Gryffindor's. Well, except Hermione. But she was different.

Draco nodded, deciding to let Weasley's last comment slide, before taking a deep breath. “And how’s Potter?” he asked hesitantly.

“Not so good.” Weasley answered. “He’s a mess.” he gave Draco a sad smile.

Draco sighed. “I really don’t know what to say other than I’m sorry.” he said genuinely. There truly wasn't anything he could say. After all, he seemed to have been to one to cause this mess in the first place.

Weasley sent him a questioning look, “Why are you sorry?” he asked.

Draco pondered this. “I’m not quite sure, I just know that I am.” He decided to shy away from the whole truth. He didn't need Weasley to help him, not when they'd just become friends.

Weasley nodded. “Fair enough.” He shuffled slightly in his seat. “If anything, though it’s Mione and me who should be apologising.” He said honestly.

“Whatever for?” he questioned.

“It was us who asked you to stay away from him in the first place. If we’d known that it would have made him act like this, then we would never have suggested it.” he deduced.

This wasn't their faults. Not much anyways. They were just trying to do the right thing by their friends, he couldn't fault them for that. He would've done the same.

Draco shook his head. “Perhaps. But you were just doing what you felt was right, I’m the one who carried through and stayed away from him.” he said fairly.

Weasley huffed, crossing his arms firmly.. “We still should have never gotten involved in the first place.” He admitted. “Whatever is going on between the both of you is absolutely mad.” he huffed out and Draco couldn't help but agree.

Draco raised a brow, “how so?” he questioned, a part of him already knowing the answer.

“It’s been a day Malfoy. Only a day since you ‘broke’ off whatever the hell was going on with you two and Harry’s a mess.” he gave Draco a look of concern.

 _So was he_ , Draco thought absently.

Weasley sighed in defeat. “I don’t know how you’ve done it. But you’re his rock, and I suspect he’s yours.” He said. “Blimey! You knows there’s something wrong when Draco sodding Malfoy becomes Harry Potter’s rock.” He joked and Draco chuckled.

“Anyways.” Weasley continued, “Harry’s little episode cost me my chicken date. I was absolutely fuming. Still am, mind you.” He bit out.

He found himself laughing at that. A chicken... what?

“Chicken date?” Draco questioned. “Are you sure that you’re doing okay Weasley?” he mocked.

Weasley rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha bloody ha Malfoy. A chicken date is not something to be joked about.” He gazed into the distance dreamily. “Biting into that juicy, succulent chicken breast, your mouth full of it’s juices. Oh yes, that’s heaven.” He breathed.

Draco choked on the very air that he was breathing in. “I say this as a friend. Weasley, you need help.” He laughed, giving him a gentle nab.

He shook his head. “No, I need chicken.” He corrected. “Do you think that the kitchen’s are still open?” he asked.

Draco rolled his eyes. “The kitchens are always open.” He informed.

Weasley jumped up from his seat excitedly. “Well, come on then.” He gestured Draco to follow him, and he couldn't help but comply.

It was an adventure that was needed. He had to let go for a while. To forget about everything, while he still could.

Draco chuckled. “Where exactly are we going?” he asked.

Weasley looked at him as if he were stupid. “To the land of chicken.” He said as if it were obvious, and Draco thought about asking what in the hell that was, but decided against it.

“Onwards.” Weasley shouted dramatically and Draco laughed before following him to the kitchens.

….

One hour later and with a belly full of chicken, Draco had almost made it to the Slytherin dungeons. 

“Draco!” a familiar small voice squeaked in greeting. He felt himself start to relax and the sound of the voice he knew all too well.

He smiled. “Hello, Kat.” He said. “What are you doing here?” he asked her, trying to mask his delight.

She looked up at him with wide eyes. “I came to see you.” She muttered sweetly.

Well, that was just adorable. He thought that this night couldn't get any better, obviously he was wrong. He normally didn't like being wrong. But in moments like these, he couldn't say that he minded all that much.

Draco beamed. “Well I’m extremely happy to see you.” he said honestly.

She shook her head. “Don’t lie to me Draco.” she chastised, and Draco felt his stomach start to sink. 

Draco shot her a confused look, “Lie to you?” he asked.

“You’re not happy Draco.” She stated simply.

Draco sighed, leading her towards a big window as they sat down on the lower ledge. If a first year had noticed, then what's to say that everyone else hadn't noticed.

That conclusion left him feeling extremely unsettled.

“What do you mean I’m not happy?” he questioned, part of him already knowing the answer, but not being brave enough to admit it.

She gave him a searching look, “I mean that you’re not happy.” She reiterated. “I see how you look at people. I know how you act.” She said matter-of-factly.

Draco gulped. “And how do I act?”

“You act like you’re fine. You laugh when you need to. You smile at myself and my friends.” She started. “You act like you’re happy. But you’re not. I know that you’re not.” She finished.

He let out a distressed cough. “Why do you think that?” he queried, genuinely afraid of the answer that he was sure to receive..

“You’re smile doesn’t reach your eyes.” She simply shrugged.

Draco blinked a few times. Kat never ceased to amaze him. He honestly wondered how such a small girl could be so perceptive. 

He let out a shaky breath. “You’re right, I’m not happy.” He admitted.

He couldn't lie to her. Not anymore. Especially when she'd shown nothing but concern for his wellbeing. What kind of person did that make him?

Although, he already knew that he was an absmayl excuse for a human being. Where he could do better he would. He _had_ to.

“I knew it.” she said gently. “that’s okay.” She carried on.

“Is it?” Draco asked, albeit shyly. It wasn't okay to be sad. It was never okay to be sad. It left one too open, to vulnerable. Something that he couldn't afford to be.

But it was something he knew that he was. Something he knew that he would always be. And that terrified him.

She gave him a small smile. “Of course, it is.” She started. “Sometimes I’m not happy.” She mused.

Draco’s features softened. “Why not?” he questioned, completely confused as to why such a loving person like herself could ever be sad.

She sighed. “I don’t know.” She breathed out. “I used to wake up sometimes and feel really, really sad. I didn’t have any friends in my old school. They said I was weird.” She said sadly.

Draco felt his heart clench and his skin prickle with anger and he imagined people picking on his best friend.

“But I don’t feel sad anymore.” She continued. “Ever since you helped me, I haven’t felt alone anymore.” She beamed. “You make me not sad anymore. You make me happy.” She gave him a massive heart-warming grin.

Draco felt his cheeks start to heat up. As he gazed down at the little girl who made him feel so safe.

“I became happy because of you.” She started “And I know that you’re even sadder then I’ve ever been.” She stated and Draco was amazed.

Her eyes widened with determination. “I’m not stupid Draco. I know that it will take a lot longer for you to be as happy as I am.” If his emotions were anything to go by, then he was sure that it would take a lifetime to be as happy as she was.

Nevertheless, Draco’s eyes filled with tears and he wondered what he had done to deserve such a beautiful friend.

“But one day you will be happy again. And I will do everything I possibly can to make sure that I’m the one to make you happy.” she promised him.

Draco gave her a loving smile. “You already make me happy.” He said honestly, because she did. Make him happy, that it.

She nodded. “I know. But you’re only temporarily happy. I’m going to make sure that you’re happy _all_ the time.” that was something that he so desperately wanted. Optimum happiness. It sounded like a dream.

One that he never wanted to wake from. One that he wouldn't give up for the world.

“You are a very special young lady.” He said between tears.

She shook her head. “Silly Draco. I’m not a young lady. I’m a big, grown Hufflepuff.” She said defiantly.

He laughed. “That you are.” he gave her the best smile that he could muster

She beamed pulling him into a large hug. “Are you happy now Draco?” she asked.

“No.” he muttered earnestly. “But I will be.” He assured her.

….

Draco was sitting by the Great Lake. 

He was confident that Potter wouldn’t be making an appearance, especially after his earlier outburst. 

“Malfoy.” A hesitant voice spoke and Draco cursed whatever god had put him in this position.

It seemed fitting. It really did, that Potter would find him when he didn't what to be found. He had a knack for seeking Draco out when he least wanted it.

It was exhausting.

With a sigh, Draco got up to leave, but was stopped when Potter’s arm latched onto his pulling him close.

“You can’t run away anymore.” He said with confidence. “I’m not going to let you.” his words were laced with an unspoken promise.

His words sent shivers down his spine. Draco knew that he should run. That he should walk away and never look back. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

“You’re mine Draco Malfoy.” He whispered possessively. “ _Mine_.” He repeated before smashing his lips onto Draco’s.

Draco’s heart stopped. Potter’s lips were chapped, the warmness of them igniting a fire within him. Their lips fit perfectly together. Mashing together in a surge of power and dominance. Potter kissed like he fought. Assertive and with a bout of passion.

Their tongues swirled around each other in a perfect harmony. Hard but sweet, fighting for dominance. Draco felt like he was flying. Like there wasn’t anything but Potter. He felt safe. Secure. Alive in a bound of passion. Potter had his heart. His soul. And it scared him.

Abruptly, Draco pulled away to catch his breath. He gazed up into lust filled green eyes. They brimmed with much unsaid emotion. Draco’s heart was beating rapidly in his chest. He’d never felt like this. He didn’t think he could ever feel like this with anyone else other than Potter. 

It was all too much. He wasn’t supposed to feel like this. Potter wasn’t meant to make him feel this way. So, Draco did the only thing he could do.

He ran.

….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh so they've kissed!! Harry went OFF! Put Dumbledore in his place, Harry! A hint for next chapter: Blood, lot's of blood.  
> As Always, comments and kudos are much appreciated :)


	6. Chapter Six.

“I kissed him. I kissed him.” Draco repeated deliriously from the edge of Theo’s bed. He’d run all the way there after ‘the incident’ with Potter, he felt that even if Draco couldn’t give himself wholly to Theo, then least he could do was give him the truth.

Theo sat up groggily, sleep blinding his eyes. “Draco?” he croaked out.

And Draco shook frantically. What had he done? What _had_ he done.

He could've had everything with Theo. The person that treated him with kindness and love, something that Draco so desperately wanted. But instead he'd thrown it all away. For Potter. Why was it Potter. Why had it _always_ been Potter

“I kissed him. I kissed him.” Draco said again, tears streaming down his cheeks. He wanted the world to swallow him whole. He didn't want to do this anymore. He _couldn't_ do this anymore.

Theo looked up at Draco in alarm, “kissed who?” he asked.

Draco shook his head frantically, refusing to answer. If he said his name then it would all become real. But the problem was it _was_ real. It had always been real, even when Draco didn't want it to be. Something would simply just stop being real because he determined it to be. It didn't work like that. _Life_ didn't work like that.

“Was it Potter?” Theo questioned hesitantly; Draco nodded. Theo let out a sigh laced with deep acceptance. “It’s always been Potter, hasn’t it?” he came to a conclusion that Draco found hard to accept, but a part of him had always known.

He said the only thing that he could. “I’m sorry.” Draco choked out. “I’m so, so sorry.” He put his head in his hands, shaking with sobs. Shame rushing though him, making him dizzy.

Theo pulled back the covers, patting the spot next to him for Draco to slide in. Carefully Draco, slipped in beside him as Theo, pulled the covers up to submerge them with warmth.

It wasn't okay. None of this was okay. But he relaxed, hoping that even for a moment, that he could forget everything.

Theo pulled Draco close, “It’s okay.” He whispered soothingly. “Everything’s going to be okay. I promise.” He repeated, absently stroking Draco’s hair.

They lay like that for several minutes, seeking comfort in one another. Draco took a deep breath, “I wish that it was you.” He muttered honestly. “I really, really do.” the admittance hitting him, leaving him raw with pain.

Theo tightened his hold on Draco, holding him even closer than before. “Me too.” He sighed. “Me too.”

….

The bird was beautiful.

It was small and white, with a patch of light blue hair dusting its stomach. To Draco, it represented all that was pure in the world. All that the world could _be_ if greed, and want cease to exist.

He was certain that he’d done it. That he’d fixed the vanishing cabinet. He felt a sinking feeling about the repercussions of his probable success.

It was a moment that he'd dreaded. One that he didn't particularly want to come true. But it was one that had to happen. One that there was no escaping from. And that, that was the scariest thing one could possibly imagine.

With a deep breath he carefully placed the chirping bird inside the cabinet, fixing the door shut firmly. He then muttered the necessary spells before opening the cabinet.

The bird was gone! That was a good sign.

Closing the door again, once more, Draco muttered a further few spells before opening up the cabinet for a second time. He felt his heart stop as he took in the fallen creature.

The bird was dead.

It all suddenly became far too real. He was doomed. He’d never be able to fix that blasted cabinet. His life, his father’s, his _mother’s_ , gone. All because he’d been set an impossible task that he couldn’t fulfil.

He didn’t want this. He didn’t bloody well ask for this. He just wanted to be free. Free from the expectations. Free from the guilt. Free from the pain. Free to be Draco. Not Draco Lucius Malfoy. No. Just _Draco_.

Why couldn't he be himself? Why did he barely know who that was? Why did it hurt so much?

It was all to much. It was all far too much.

 _‘Fix the cabinet, Draco. I know that you can fix it.’_

The familiar voice in his head sang out, it menacing and frilly. Couldn’t it see? Couldn’t anyone see? He couldn’t fix the cabinet. He wasn’t powerful enough.

 _‘Fix it Draco. Do you want your parents to die because of you? Are you really going to loose everything, to become that blood traitor scum that I know you are?”_ it whined.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut up. Just leave him alone. He wanted everyone and everything to leave him alone. He _needed_ to be left alone.

It all suddenly became too hot. Draco was sweating far too much for comfort. He needed to leave. He needed to get breakfast.

Breakfast. Yes! That’s what he needed to do. If he went and had some breakfast, then everything would be alright again. Everything would be fine. It had to be.

That’s exactly what he would do. He thought with determination, before exiting the room of requirement in search of some breakfast.

….

He entered the Great Hall in a haste, his shoulders sagged, his eyes were baggy.

The aroma of freshly cooked sausages hit him like a tonne of bricks, and quite frankly it made him feel sick to his stomach.

He was such an idiot. What in Merlin’s name was he thinking? That breakfast would make him feel better. He couldn’t eat. He couldn’t so much as look at food without wanting to throw up. He hated it.

Just when he thought that things couldn’t get any worse, he looked up, straight into the tired eyes of Katie Bell.

She looked terrible. Her hair was matted upon her head, her cheeks were hollow and worn, her walk had a slight limp. He had done that. He had done that to her.

It was all his fault. Why was it always his fault? Why wasn’t he Potter? Why couldn’t be Harry sodding Potter Saviour of the bloody Wizarding World. Why did he have to be Draco Lucius Malfoy? Why was his father a Death Eater? Why was Draco expected to become a Death Eater. To always be a Death Eater.

It wasn’t fair. None of this was fucking fair. And he felt like he was going to explode.

He needed to get out of there. He needed to go. Leave. Goodbye. Fin. Finished. Done. Nada. 

He just needed to go.

With a shaky breath he caught the eye of a confused Potter before fleeing the Great Hall.

….

He loosened his tie as soon as he entered Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, approaching the sink and splashing water onto his pale face.

“What’s wrong with you?” a squeak erupted from above him, and Draco looked up to face the creepy girl.

Moaning Myrtle. He'd heard all about her, but he'd only managed to catch a few glimpses of her over the years. That was mainly due to the fact that she hardly ever left her bathroom. And well, it wasn't as if Draco was actively looking for her. She wasn't someone that you particularly wanted to find.

Draco shook his head. “Nothing.” He answered absently. Because _nothing_ was wrong. He couldn't afford to be upset, things couldn't be wrong. They just couldn't.

So, nothing was wrong. He had to believe that was true. He just had to. Or else he feared he'd go insane.

“Doesn’t look like nothing, you look like death” she bit out. For a ghost, she was oddly immune to the mention of death. It was quite peculiar indeed. 

He sighed. “I really don’t want to talk about it.” he muttered, hoping that she would take the bait and leave.

He needed to be alone. He needed to get his emotions in check before attempting to deal with the cabinet again. And he _was_ going to deal with it. There was no other choice.

She smiled widely. “That’s okay.” Her smile grew even larger. “If you want, when you die, you can share my toilet.” She said with glee and Draco felt sick.

Toilet? He could share her toilet. In order to do that he'd need to be dead, and if Draco was dead then... he shivered, he didn't want to think about that.

“No, that’s okay. You can keep your toilet.” He croaked quietly but firmly.

She cackled. “Silly boy.” She gave him a toothy grin, “don’t you know that sharing is so much better?” She moved closer towards him whilst shooting him a predatory glance, “besides, I think you’ll do quite nicely.”

Okay, that was it. He didn't want to do nicely. He didn't even want to share her toilet. He needed to divert the topic of conversation, and he needed to do it now.

The truth. 

He had to tell her the truth, it was the only option. And maybe, just _maybe_ he'd be all the better for it.

Draco took a deep breath, ready to bare all to a girl he hardly knew. “I really don’t want to do this anymore.” He cried out, pacing around the bathroom.

“Do what?” the girl asked, and he could swear that she was floating closer towards him.

Draco shrugged. “I don’t know. This. Life. _Everything_.” He admitted. The reality of his words hitting him like a tonne of bricks.

How had he ended up here? He thought absently. How had he ended up _here_? Alone. With only a ghost for company. He couldn't even remember what life was like before he'd gotten the mark.

He wasn't even sure if he wanted to.

Ignorance was bliss. And pretending, or even forgetting the life he led before this was safer for everyone. The only thing that drives someone is hope, and if that was lost then there was only fear. And if there was only fear there was acceptance. And if there was acceptance then no one got hurt.

And thinking about his old life. Think about the smiles, and laughs that he shared was dangerous. It gave him hope. And hope would get him killed. It would get them _all_ killed.

He turned his attention back to the wide eyed girl who let out a questionable chuckle, “You don’t seem very happy.” She observed.

“I’m not.” He answered simply. What else could he say? Lie? He was affirmative that he was that of a transparent nature.

She raised a brow, “And why’s that, pretty blonde one?” she wiggled her eyebrows suggestively and Draco paled. He knew that look, he knew it _all_ too well.

He could tell you one thing, he was _not_ having intimate relations with a bloody ghost.

Draco shuddered. “Draco.” he snapped at the girl, glaring daggers at her.

“What?”

He sighed. “Draco. My name’s Draco.” He stated. In all honesty, he felt quite sorry for the girl. She had no friends, no one to talk or laugh with. Draco may as well be dead, but in a sense he was glad that his heart was still beating. That he was still _alive_.

So, if he could offer her nothing else, then he'd offer her friendship.

She beamed. “Draco. What a pretty name.” she decided, before giving him a concerned look. “Anyways, Draco why are you sad?” she asked, and part of Draco was grateful for her constant interference.

At least someone wanted to help him. At least _someone_ cared.

He heaved, letting it all out. “Because he’s going to kill her. He’s going to kill her and I can’t—”

“Malfoy!” a cold voice boomed and Draco whipped around to face an angry Harry Potter. Why was Potter here? It couldn't be. Had Potter followed him? But _why_?

“I _know_ what you did Malfoy.” He snarled as he took a step towards Draco and Draco reflexively took a wary step back .

Myrtle screamed. “Bad man, bad man. Stay away from Draco. Stay away!” she yelled frantically, and Draco felt the need to console the frightened girl.

Draco shook his head. “It’s alright Myrtle. It’s okay.” He reassured the quivering girl, before turning his attention back on Potter.

Potter, who looked murderous scoffed. “I can’t _believe_ you Malfoy. Why do this? Why hurt these people? Why make me feel this way just to do this. Was it all a game?” he whispered the last part brokenly.

He felt conflicted. Obviously this was more personal to Potter than he would ever know. To think that he hurt someone like this. That _his_ actions had caused this. It filled him with deep shame.

“Was it?” he asked again and Draco kept his head down, he couldn't look at Potter. He couldn't face him. Not like this. Not after what he'd done.

Potter growled. “Answer me, you coward!” he demanded, holding his wand up in threat.

So, Draco did.

He answered him in the only way he knew how. He threw at Potter the first hex that he could think of. He missed.

Potter ducked, shooting a spell right back at him. Draco dove behind a stall.

They carried on throwing spells forward and back. Ducking and diving. Screaming and shouting. Draco felt tired. He felt the fight leave him. He felt alone.

 _Sectumsempra_.

Draco felt pain.

He collapsed onto the floor, howling in sheer agony. He’d never felt anything like it. it was worse than a crucio. It was worse than the fear he felt for the Dark Lord. No, this was pure torture.

There was blood. There was so much blood. Was that all his? 

He absently heard Potter sink down next to him. “Draco!” he screamed, fear lacing his tone. “No. No. No. NO!” he shouted, cradling Draco’s almost limp body in his arms.

“Murder!” Myrtle screamed as she thrashed around in the air frantically.

Potter shook his head. “What have I done?” he howled. “What have I done?” he repeated deliriously.

“I’m sorry Draco. I’m so, so sorry.” He grieved. “It’s going to be okay. It’s all going to be okay. I’ll protect you. I’ll protect you.” Draco could barely hear him, the pounding in his ears becoming too much.

“Help!” Potter screamed frantically. “Please, somebody help him.” he bellowed again. “I need him. I need him.” he tried again. “Please. I can’t lose him. I need him. I need him. I need hi—”

Draco felt Potter abruptly being pulled off him, his arms replaced with stronger ones. “Foolish boy.” Someone snapped, but Draco was too far gone to even attempt to recognise who it was.

He felt his eyes starting to close, his breaths becoming shallower. Myrtle’s screams and Potter’s cries could be heard echoing throughout the room. But Draco didn’t have the energy to try and even care. As he descended into darkness, he felt his blood slowly trickle back into his body.

No! He thought. He didn’t want the blood. He didn’t want to be saved. He wanted this. He needed this. It was perfect. It was poetic. It was his way out. The darkness was his only way out. He would be free. He needed to finally be free.

….

Death was supposed to be far less painful than this, he thought.

He must be in hell. That must be it!

Where the hell was the devil? Ha. Excuse the pun. Why was hell so dark? Where was the flames, the fire, the dragons? Why weren’t there any dragons? Draco wanted dragons. Was that too much to ask for?

As he drifted in and out of consciousness, he heard the beginnings of mutterings. Ones that sounded a lot like Potter.

“I know you can’t hear me.” Potter started and Draco wanted to scream that yes, he could hear him and also why the _fuck_ did you think it was a good idea to attempt to kill me Potter?

“If you were conscious right now, you’d probably be wondering why I tried to kill you.” He carried on and Draco swore that he were psychic. That was the only way that Potter would know what he was thinking.

It was all completely unsettling. 

Potter took a deep breath. “I didn’t mean to. I promise I didn’t mean to. I didn’t even know what that spell did.” He stumbled over his words. “I would never intentionally hurt you like that Draco. I care about you so much. I need you. I need you so goddamn much.” He almost pleaded.

He needed him. Potter _needed_ him. But how? Why? Potter had everything. He had people who followed him. Who cared about him. Who _loved_ him. Draco had no one.

So, why would a person who had everything need a person who had nothing? It was a question that would rattle inside his brain for a long while yet.

“I know I’ve been horrible to you. There’s no excuse for it. I’ve been a real git.” He attempted. “You don’t deserve it. You don’t deserve any of it.” he admitted. Couldn't he see. Didn't Potter understand? He did deserve it. He couldn't begin to explain how much he deserved it.

He was calculating and cruel. All things that the world should be rid of. Draco decided that Potter was right, Draco didn't deserve it. He deserved _more_.

Draco kept his eyes firmly shut. “I’ve been confused. I’ve just been so confused.” He started what Draco assumed was a long-winded explanation. “I’m meant to be the Saviour of the Wizarding World. I’ve meant to save everyone. I’m meant to get the girl. Marry Ginny. Become a true member of the Weasley family.” He sighed. “But it’s not like that.” He admitted.

Draco felt his heart give out a small squeeze. “I came back to Hogwarts with the intent of doing just that. Of being all that I was supposed to be.” He chuckled, “One look at you, and all that changed.” No, no, NO. He couldn't say things like that. Not like this. Not now.

He gulped, willing himself to be dragged into a sleep which he would never wake from. “You were different. More subdued. You didn’t fight with me. You didn’t pick on me. You didn’t even call me names. You just ignored me. As if I wasn’t good enough to be a part of you life. That hurt.”

That _hurt_. Draco seemed to hurt everyone he touched these days. But hearing that he'd hurt Potter. Knowing all that he had done to him. He realised that hurting Potter was worse that all the others he'd hurt combined. It pained him that he didn't know _why_.

Potter scoffed. “You started making friends with first-year Hufflepuff's. You made a friend in Ron and Hermione. Everyone got to have a piece of this new Draco. Everyone except me. And I was confused. I was so confused. I didn’t know why I cared. Why it mattered so much.” He sighed. 

“So, I followed you. I realised that you spent every night by the lake, so I made sure that I was there. I convinced myself that it was because I thought that you were up to something. And maybe part of me thought that you were. But another part of me, a bigger part of me just wanted to get to know you. To understand this new Draco that everyone seemed to like.” He admitted, and _that_ Draco hadn't been expecting.

Draco felt shaken to his core. Potter always managed to surprise him, he'd give him that. Actually, surprise wasn’t even the right word to describe how he was feeling.

Potter carried on, “But after a while. Those nights. Well, those nights became everything to me.” He reminisced. “They became an escape. A place to hide. To get away from a world that only saw me as their saviour. I was free to be Harry. _Just Harry_.”

Just Harry. That sounded a lot like just _Draco._ And for the first time he realised that he and Potter weren't all that different. No they were just two boys, that were born into a web of impossible expections. They were just two boys that the world had set their sights on, telling them _who_ they should be.

He diverted his attention back on Potter. “You didn’t scream at me. You didn’t demand anything. You just wanted me. You listened to me. You never said anything, but I knew you were always listening. You would smile when I said something funny. You would squeeze my hand whenever I said something sad.”

He took another deep breath. “It was perfect. It was everything I’d ever wanted. And it scared me. It scared me so much.” He said shakily. “I was Harry Potter. I wasn’t meant to feel this way about Draco Malfoy. I was meant to marry Ginny and have hundreds of little ginger haired children. I felt dirty. I felt sick. It was as if something was wrong with me.” he wanted to console Potter. To tell him that there wasn't anything wrong with him. But he couldn't. He _wouldn't_.

Draco felt his heart start to break. “It’s no excuse for how I treated you. I know it isn’t. But I want you to get it. I want you to understand.” He pleaded. “I felt as if I had to do it. That I had to make you sad. Then it wouldn’t be so bad. Then I could ignore everything I felt for you. I was in denial. In fact, it maybe worked for a week at the most. After that, it hurt. It hurt to see you in pain and know that I had caused it. But I still carried on. I still hurt you. Because I was a coward. Because I _am_ a coward.”

Coward. A word thrown around so lightly, many not truly understanding it's meaning. Potter wasn't a coward. He was far from it. No, he was one of the bravest people that Draco knew.

He swallowed loudly. “And then you took it all away. My escape. A place where I could be myself. My rock. You took it all, and I broke. Hermione calls it a psychotic break. I’m not too sure how I feel about that.” He chuckled, but it sounded forced, desperate. Draco didn't like that. He didn't like it at all.

He carried on, “I didn’t know what I was doing or saying. I just knew that you were gone. And I didn’t know how to handle that. You seriously don’t know how much I need you.” he admitted and Draco wanted to scream. Potter didn't need him. He shouldn't need him. Draco was bad for Potter. He was dangerous.

Draco felt a sweaty hand squeeze his. Against his better judgment, he decided that it felt…nice.

“I’m sorry Draco. I’m so sorry for doing this to you.” He sobbed. “Seeing you in that bathroom. Watching as the life left your body. That was the most scared I’d ever been. I’d never felt fear like it. It was if all was lost. The only thing that kept me going, had left me and it was all my fault. I felt broken.”

He sighed. “I know it sounds crazy. It’s only been four months and I already feel like this. I can’t quite believe it myself. Never mind accept it.” he held onto Draco’s hand even tighter. “I just know that there’s no one who understands it like you do. No one that’s willing to just listen to me. No one who just sees me. Not the Boy Who Lived. Just me. You. Only you. It’s _always_ been you.” He admitted quietly.

Why was Potter doing this to him? Why was he saying these things? Words that meant so much. Words he couldn't take back. Words that gave him _hope_.

He wanted hope. He _needed_ hope. But it was something he could never have. Something that he didn't deserve. He shifted uncomfortably, but it was a feeling that he had. And one that he feared would never go away.

Potter gave his hand one last squeeze. “If you can forgive me. I don’t deserve it and I understand if you didn’t. But if you did, please know that I’ll change. That I have changed. That it’ll be different this time. I understand now. I almost lost you and I never what to lose you again. I care about you far too much.” he finished, and Draco's head start to spin.

It was all too much.

Draco felt his eyes start relaxing, a bout of tiredness washing over him as absently heard Potter whisper “You’re so beautiful Draco.” before everything went black.

….

Draco opened his eyes which fixed onto the unhappy gaze of Madam Pomfrey. 

This wasn't good.

“I thought I said that I didn’t want to see you again any time soon, Mr Malfoy?” she asked pointedly.

Draco sighed, sitting up slightly. “Well, we don’t get everything we want, do we?” he answered and she glared at him. “Besides, if we did, then I wouldn’t be sitting in hospital after almost drowning in a pool of my own blood.” He teased, cracking up slightly at his own words.

She sniffed. “That’s not even a little bit funny.” she chastised shooting him a glare. Draco begged to differ, he was a comedian

“Really?” he mused. “Because I thought that it was hilarious.” he gave her a smug smile, and he could feel her deciding whether or not to smack him there and then.

Madam Pomfrey tutted, “I see that almost dying hasn’t changed you one bit.” She observed.

So, obviously she'd decided against the smacking. Severus Snape would be appalled.

He shrugged. “Why change perfection?” he preened, not believing his words in the slightest. But they were funny, nevertheless.

She laughed, “What am I going to do with you, Mr Malfoy?” she asked him, and he had a few suggestions.

Draco looked up at her with hope lining his eyes. “Not make me drink any more of those disgusting potions?” He enquired with disdain, “they should be illegal.” He decided.

She shook her head. “Nice try Mr Malfoy.” She quirked and he huffed. “It’s thanks to those disgusting potions that you are now allowed to receive visitors, would you like me to send the first few in?” she asked.

“First?” he asked sceptically. Visitors? While he looked like this. How so very unseemly.

His hair wasn't even styled. He was sure he looked a right mess. He shot her an 'are you serious?' kind of look which she promptly ignored.

Madam Pomfrey chuckled. “Oh yes, you appear to be quite popular.” She remarked before pulling back the curtains.

“Draco!” Pansy gasped, her eyes shining with tears and Blaise wrapped his arm around her, pulling her in for a tight squeeze.

“I hate you.” She spat. “How _dare_ you to this to us. To me? I hate you. I hate you so much.” She choked out and Draco couldn't help but frown.

Yes, hate the guy that had just been cut in half. He truly wondered what she would do if he was dead or something. He shivered, he really didn't want to find out.

Draco shot her a reassuring smile. “It’s alright Pans. I’m alright.” He offered.

Tears started to fall freely from his eyes. “I thought you were dead. We were all told to prepare for the worst. I’ve never been more afraid.” She babbled.

That's when it all clicked. He finally understood. She wasn't mad, no, she was afraid. She didn't want to lose him. Neither of them wanted to lose him. He felt horrible. He felt ashamed.

Blaise took a deep breath. “You scared us both half to death.” He tried to appear calm, but Draco could see right through him.

Draco chuckled. “I’ll try my hardest not to die in the near future.” he joked but when he saw the looks on their faces, he realised that he was being utterly serious.

“Don’t even joke about crap like that.” Pansy growled angrily and he couldn't blame her.

He sighed. “All right, all right.” He repeated, holding up his hands in defeat. “So how have things been without me?” he asked genuinely quite curious .

Blaise smiled. “The Hufflepuff’s went crazy. They started an actual coup demanding to know who would dare harm their Draco like that.” Draco felt an odd warmness course through his body.

The Hufflepuff's were living legends. The lot of them! He needed to see this, and he needed to see it right now.

“I’m not even joking. They’re currently running around the castle attacking people with butterflies and promising to spill the blood of whoever hurt you.” He shuddered and Draco suddenly felt fearful for Potter’s safety.

Draco grinned. “Well, I do love my Hufflepuff’s.” he admitted, his features giving away the love that he felt for them.

Pansy laughed. “Only you would be proud of little buggers torturing people in your defence.” She mocked, and alas he was happy to say that she was right.

“But of course, Pansy. There’s nothing better than a little bit of anarchy to feed the soul.” He bit out.

Blaise let out a scoff. “You’re as barmy as they are.” He commented.

Draco raised an amused brow, “where do you think they got it from?” he toyed and Draco laughed a genuine laugh for the first time, in a long time.

….

“I brought you some chicken.” Weasley offered sheepishly, handing him two freshly cooked chicken drumsticks.

Draco snorted. “My hero. For none of this would be possible without your sacrifice.” He teased, but sadly he wasn't really in the mood for chicken at the moment.

Almost dying does that to a person. But he wouldn't dare admit that to Weasley. He'd had a glimpse of death and he didn't rather fancy seeing it again for a long while to come.

Weasley’s eyes widened. “Exactly. It took a lot not to shove those deliciously succulent chicken drumsticks into my gob.” He looked at the drumsticks in awe, and Draco deemed it the cutest love story every told.

“In fact,” Weasley carried on, stepping closer towards Draco, “if you wouldn’t mind, I’ll just...” He snatched a drumstick from Draco’s hands, sinking his teeth into the juicy chicken flesh.

Well, you can't stop true love. 

“Delicious!” he cheered, pure delight plastered onto his freckled features.

Hermione slapped him on the arm. “Hey!” Weasley shouted, rubbing his injured arm. “What was that for?” he gave her a scathing look. It was her own fault, no one should come between a man and his chicken.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s rude to take the gifts that you brought for someone for yourself.” She reprimanded.

“It’s also rude not to share.” Weasley countered. “But you don’t see me telling Malfoy off for his lack of manners.” He pointed out through mouthfuls of food.

Hermione rolled her eyes. “What am I going to do with you?” she tutted, but Draco could see the affectionate glint in her eye. Well, that was new. Had it always been there?

“Go and get me some more chicken?” he asked hopefully.

She slapped him again.

“Anyways how are _you_ Draco?” she asked genuinely completely ignoring Weasley’s cries, to which Draco thought was the funniest thing ever.

Draco chuckled. “I’m as well as a guy that almost bled to death can be I suppose.” He joked. Seriously? What was _with_ him and all the death jokes. They were absolutely ghastly.

And maybe, they were the teeny weeniest bit funny. Okay, they were extremely funny. It wasn't his fault that he was hilarious.

Hermione sighed. “I’m so sorry this happened to you. You didn’t deserve it.” she said and Draco felt quite guilty because yes, he did deserve it.

Weasley nodded. “She’s right mate. She’s dead right.” No, she was not right. But he wasn't about to disclose that. He valued his life.

Draco gave them a small smile. “Thank you. Both of you.” He said as earnestly as he could.

“I feel like we’re ignoring the elephant in the room.” Hermione said matter-of-factly.

Weasley looked around confused. “I don’t see an elephant.” he answered and Draco tried so hard not to laugh. Was Weasley actually being serious?

Hermione slapped him again. “Not an actual elephant.” She corrected. “I meant Harry.” she stated and when Weasley's baffled gaze cease to leave, Draco pitied his friend.

Weasley scoffed. “Now I know you’re going barmy. Harry’s not here.” He remarked triumphantly.

She glared at him. “I give up.” She huffed out.

Draco laughed. “You don’t need to worry about Harry, Hermione.” He said simply. “He couldn’t have known what that spell done.” He reasoned.

He felt the need to defend Potter. It was as much Draco's fault than it was his. After all, Draco was the one who had played with Draco's emotions resulting in this mess.

Hermione sighed. “I know but—”

“No buts.” Draco intervened. “Everybody makes mistakes and does things that they don’t mean.” He reasoned.

She shook her head. “Yes, but he almost killed you.” She pointed out.

Draco looked up at her with reassurance. “And I bullied him for five years. Made his life hell. Called you a mudblood. And spent my days criticising Weasley’s family.” He said. “I’m not perfect. I made mistakes. But I learnt from them, as will he.” Draco finished hoping that they'd understand where he was coming from.

Weasley gave him a warm smile. “You’re a better man than me.” he said in admiration and Draco decided that couldn't be further from the truth.

Draco was just about to correct him when a shout came from outside the hospital door.

“Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right. Left. Right.” a high voice commanded.

Draco was completely surprised to see Kat march in followed by a long line of Hufflepuff first-years. Their ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ badges shone proudly on their robes. Their faces were tainted with three stripes of purple glitter paint which was plastered on each cheek. They looked adorable.

“What’s all this?” he chuckled. He had to admit, seeing the Hufflepuff's like this. So thirsty for vengeance just because they loved and respected Draco brought a smile to his face.

It was nice to see how much they cared, if he'd doubted it before, then he sure as hell didn't now.

Kat beamed when she saw him. “Oh, Draco! They said that you were still alive but I just didn’t believe them.” She said sadly, and his heart broke for the hundredth time that day.

In all the 'excitement' he should say, he'd never stopped to think how his accident could've emotionally impacted the Hufflepuff's.

A bunch of innocent first years who were most probably ignorant to the possibility of real loss, and to hear that someone they questionably looked up to, that they cared about had been perhaps fatally hurt, well... Draco didn't want to think about how that must've felt. 

Draco gave her a smile. “I’m more alive than I’ve ever been.” He reassured her and the other Hufflepuff's as best as he possibly could.

Weasley looked down at the grinning girl. “So, when did the Hufflepuff first-years turn into an army?” he asked her innocently and Draco repressed a sigh. He noted that Weasley really could be quite oblivious when he wanted to be.

Kat’s eyes turned to stone. “Ever since someone thought it was okay to harm our Draco.” She growled and the other Hufflepuff's nodded frantically, their eyes ablaze with an anger that Draco had no idea that Hufflepuff's were even capable of.

“Yeah!” a boy cheered. “No should dare to hurt Draco and just _think_ that they can just get away with it.” he said defiantly, as he turned towards the Hufflepuff's raising a fist to the air. "They. Will. Suffer!” he shouted urging them to follow.

And of course the rest followed suit. “They. Will. Suffer. They. Will. Suffer. They. Will. Suffer. They. Will. Suffer!” the first-years started to chant.

So maybe, just maybe Draco finally understood what Blaise had meant when the Hufflepuff's had started a coup. Although he was proud of his Hufflepuff's, he had to be honest, part of him was secretly glad he'd been confined to a coma during their little upheaval. They were terrifying.

He looked at both Hermione and Weasley, secretly pleading for a little bit of help. Hermione sighed apologetically, whilst Weasley gave him a teasing smirk.

Traitors!

Alarmed, Draco returned his attention back onto the Hufflepuff's. “Shhh, Shhh.” He started. “Keep it down or Madam Pomfrey will have all of our heads. And I don’t know about any one you, but I really don’t feel like dying for a second time.” he said and internally cringed at his words.

Seriously? What was up with all these death jokes? They weren't even that funny. Okay.. they were hilarious. But that wasn't the point. It was al;l very concerning.

“Over our dead bodies.” Kat bit out and Draco wholeheartedly believed her. That worried him

Hermione chuckled. “Who knew Hufflepuff first-years could be so daunting.” She commented and Draco froze. Ah! Her first mistake

Sure enough, Kat turned to face her an evil look residing in her eyes. “Oh yes, we can be very, very scary.” She pulled out her wand. “Would you like to see how scary?” she questioned innocently.

Scared, Hermione looked at Draco for help. He shrugged pretending not to look the least bit interested.

Payback's a bitch.

Hermione blushed shaking her head. “I think I’ll take your word for it.” she offered, in an attempt to diffuse the situation.

Kat smiled. “Good choice.” she told her, lowering her wand as the door slammed open.

“What’s going on in here?” Madam Pomfrey tutted, walking in briskly, shaking her head in disappointment in her wake.

Great, just great. And to think Draco wasn't already in enough trouble. What's a little more?

Draco sighed opening his mouth to tell her "nothing" at the same time Kat said “we’re showing Draco our war chants.” and Madame Pomfrey gave him a death glare.

Convenient. This was all just so bloody convenient. The _one_ time Draco actually _needed_ help, it was no where to be found. Maybe he was just unconventionally unlucky? Yes, that made sense.

Madam Pomfrey smiled at Kat. “As lovely as your war chants sound, Mr Malfoy has to rest.” She informed them pointedly and their faces fell.

Kat looked down in disappointment. “Oh” she muttered and Draco felt horrible for his Hufflepuff's, he looked at Madam Pomfrey hopefully who sighed.

She gave her a small tap on the back. “Don’t worry, he’ll be released later and then you can see him whenever you want.” She offered the dejected Puffs who's moods instantly changed.

Kat jumped up and down ecstatically. “Really?” she beamed and the rest of them followed her, smiling and clapping frantically.

Madam Pomfrey nodded and Kat gave Draco a quick squeeze. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” She whispered before leading the Hufflepuff’s out in a whirl of Left. Rights. Left. Rights.

Hermione gave him a smile. “We’ll see you later Draco.” She promised as she gestured for Weasley to follow her out of the room.

Weasley nodded. “See you, mate.” He said before they walked out of the room.

Madam Pomfrey shook her head. “You and your Hufflepuff’s are going to kill me.” She huffed and Draco laughed.

“Then it shall be the most honourable death known to man.” He joked, feeling much better than he had in days.

….

“This is the part when you tell me I was right.” Severus commented, giving Draco a smug look and Draco narrowed his eyes at him.

That was hilarious. He never realised that Severus was a bloody comedian. Draco admit that he was wrong. Draco Lucius Malfoy? And leave himself open to Severus' smug teasing that he knew that he would indulge in. He thought not!

Draco crossed his arms firmly across his chest, shaking his head stubbornly. “I will do no such thing.” He bit out, over his cold dead body.

Severus sighed. “You really are a foolish young boy.” he told him and Draco scoffed. Tell him something he didn't already know.

He shrugged, putting on the façade that he knew all too well. “I made my peace with that fact a long time ago.” He mocked. “Life just becomes so much greater when you accept such fickle things like that.” He said.

Sometimes, just sometimes he wondered what would happen if he confided in Severus. If he told him all that was wrong in his life. Would Severus listen? Would he understand? Would he _help_?

He took a peak at Severus' angry features and decided that no. He would definitely not help.

Severus narrowed his eyes at him. “You act like you didn’t almost die a few days ago.” He pointed out, like Draco didn't already know that.

“Technicalities. Technicalities.” Draco mused.

Severus growled. “Not everything is a joke, you idiotic boy.” So, he was idiotic and foolish, oh bother! Severus had forgotten devilishly good looking and charming. He'd have to tell him so that Severus could use it in one of their future little talks.

Draco grinned. “But I find everything funny.” He reasoned, because everything was just that little bit better when viewed as satirical.

“Do you find the painful death that the Dark Lord is planning for you funny?” He asked and Draco's blood ran cold.

The Dark Lord a name that stayed at the forefront of his mind. A name that he so desperately wanted to be rid of, but could never escape from. it shook him to his core.

He responded with silence.

Severus nodded smugly. “I thought not.” He snarled. “The Dark Lord fears that you are becoming complacent.” He remarked and Draco felt something close to dread start to build within him.

If the Dark Lord thought him complacent, then he'd become expendable. And if he was expendable, well... he didn't want to think about that.

Draco growled suddenly feeling anger rip through him. “Then you can tell _your_ Dark Lord to come and kill the Headmaster his damn self instead of leaving it up to a sixteen-year-old boy.” He spat out.

“Do you seriously want to die?” Severus asked him seriously and he shook his head.

He realised that it wasn't a question whether he wanted to die or not. No, it was a question whether he wanted his mother to _live_.

Draco sighed. “I guess now that I’ve had a taste of death, I find it terribly addicting.” he sarcastically said. What the _fuck_ was wrong with him? Why was he like this?

Severus put a hand on Draco’s shoulder shaking him vigorously and Draco started to feel deep frustration arise from within him.

“Hey!” he shouted. “it appears that the fact that I almost died a few days ago has escaped your notice. I’m weak.” Draco glowered at Severus as if wanting to rip his throat out.

Severus tutted. “You’ve always been weak. Not man enough to do what has to be done.” he spat out and Draco was going to pretend that didn't hurt.

Draco rolled his eyes. “I apologise. I never realised that killing your Headmaster made you a man. I’m sorry, I’ll do better.” He drawled and he could feel Severus' burning gaze drilling holes into his skull..

“You’re an idiot Draco. You’re a complete and utter idiot.” He snarled. “He has your mother; you narrow minded fool. How long do you think he’s going to keep her alive?” He spat and Draco felt sick.

“Do you think I don’t know that?” Draco shouted. “Of course, I know that he has my fucking mother. I think about it of every minute of every day.” He didn't want to do this. He didn't want to think about this. Why was Severus doing this? Why was he hurting him so?

Severus shrugged giving Draco a demanding glare. “Then why haven’t you fixed the cabinet? Why haven’t you killed the Headmaster?” He asked and Draco frantically searched for an exuse.

Draco rolled his eyes trying to put up a brave front. “That cabinet is nearly impossible to fix, and do you know how bloody hard it is to kill one of the supposed greatest wizards of all time.” he supplied almost truthfully.

Severus nodded. “I figure that it may pose as quite the challenge.” He reasoned and Draco internally thanked himself.

“You think?” Draco deadpanned.

“Don’t get snarky with me.” Severus warned and Draco wished that he would just shut up. Alas, he didn't. He wouldn't.

Draco took a frustrated breath. “Then don’t say stupid things.” He countered and he had to admit, he was quite proud of that comeback.

Severus sighed. “Anyways, I shall tell the Dark Lord that you will have completed your task by the end of the school year. Because,You. Are. Going. To. Complete. It. By. Then.” He threatened.

Draco nodded, one hundred percent understanding his message.

“Good.” Severus approved, and Draco was begging to feel tired. He just want to get away. To be anywhere else but here.

Draco sighed. “Can I leave now? I’m tired.” He asked already getting up, determined to leave whatever the answer may be.

Severus nodded with approval and Draco made his was towards the door. “Draco.” Severus called out just as he was about to leave.

“Yes.” Draco answered impatiently.

Severus’ eyes glazed over. “I’m glad you’re okay. And please stay safe.” He said and Draco nodded before exiting the room.

….

When Draco entered the Slytherin common room the amicable chatter came to a stop.

Draco let out an annoyed breath. “Yes, yes, I’m not dead.” He brushed them off. “Please don’t let my apparent resurrection keep you from your mindless conversations.” He bit out before making his way to the dorms.

When Draco entered his dorm, he walked straight to his bed, but instead of climbing atop of it, he crawled under it.

Carefully, he retrieved his art supplies. It had been such a long time. He didn’t want to sleep. No, he wanted to draw. 

With a deep breath, Draco walked out of the common room and to the only place where he felt truly free.

….

Draco sat down crossed legged by the edge of the Great Lake. He breathed in the freshness of the deep winter air. It smelt like heaven.

He was almost finished with his sketch. He reckoned that it had turned out pretty well. It was subtle, sweet, simple. But it showed so much. He felt so much when he looked at it. It reminded him of all that was right in the world. All that made him happy.

Happy.

Draco hoped that one day he could be happy. He was tired of this temporary happiness. He wanted to feel truly happy. Without the weight of the world weighing down his every step. Without having to think of moves and countermoves. Without all of the lies and deceit. Just happy. Draco wanted to feel only happiness.

He knew that it was a lot to ask. He knew that a Death Eater like him hardly deserved something as beautiful as happiness. But he was willing to try.

He had to try.

“Draco.” A voice breathed and Draco looked up, straight into the teary green eyes of Harry Potter.

Draco patted the ground next to him. The small, little gesture meaning so much.

Potter and Draco sat there for a few moments, gazing up into the nights sky. 

“I’m sorry.” Potter whispered and Draco entwined his fingers with Potter’s giving them a tight squeeze.

He forgave Potter.

He would always forgive Potter. That thought used to scare him, but now it made him feel peace. It helped him to remember that he was capable of feeling anything but sadness. He felt passion. He felt need. He felt happiness.

Potter made him happy.

They stayed wrapped around one another as the sun came up. A new day, which symbolized, need, forgiveness and a deep understanding. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was definitely my favourite chapter to write by far! I absolutely love Ron! And the Hufflepuff army squad are adorable! I don't condone Harry's actions but I wanted to show the why to the what.  
> 


	7. Chapter Seven.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fluff, fluff, and more fluff!

Draco was at a loss.

He was at a complete loss. He had glitter in his hair and tape stuck to his fingers. His normally flawless hair was sticking up in all different directions, his cheeks were redder than a flock of Weasleys.

This was torture. This was actual torture. He couldn’t understand how muggles actually did this. Were they sure that they weren’t wizards? This was virtually impossible.

He was drowning. No, he was suffocating. No, he was pretty sure that he was already dead.

How was wrapping presents not some kind of sport?

Why did the paper fold like that? Why were all the ribbons torn? Where the fuck did he put all the glitter? Why were there so many colours? No, seriously who thought it was a good idea to print numerous colours of the same bloody thing?

Stupid Hufflepuff’s.

Stupid, stupid Hufflepuff’s. Make friends with the Hufflepuff’s Draco. They’re lovely, Draco. Their friendship _won’t_ come back to bite you in your very pert arse Draco.

Liars!

Liars. The lot of them were liars. Draco just had to make friends with over two dozen mini little Hufflepuff’s. He had to just get to know every single last one of them individually. A few Gryffindor, Ravenclaw and Slytherin first-years just had to join the Draco Malfoy Pride. And of bloody course Draco just _had_ to get to know them as well.

So instead of buying only several presents for the seven people that mattered in his life, NO Draco had brought a sickening thirty-two presents!

And those were just the first years. Don’t even get him started on the presents he’d had to get Hermione, Weasley, Potter, and surprisingly Lavender Brown. Because Draco just _had_ to make nicey nice with the Gryffindor’s.

And that was why Draco was currently sitting on his bed surrounded by glitter, paper and presents, silently praying that the Dark Lord would come to his senses and AK his fine arse.

“Woah, Draco it looks like someone died in here!” Blaise drawled dramatically.

Draco rolled his eyes. “Oh, ha bloody ha.” He bit out, “just for that you’re off my Christmas present list.” He snapped. And if Blaise thought he was lying, well... he'd have a shock come Christmas morning.

Blaise tutted. “Now, now Draco let’s not take extreme measures.” he told him almost condescendingly and Draco was _this_ close to ripping his throat out.

He didn't have time for this. He was tired. He was so fucking tired. Stupid Hufflepuff's and their adorable faces, full of want and need. Draco could really do without the glitter in his hair.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, “I’ll show you extreme measures.” He threatened, picking up a pair of scissors waving them around frantically.

“Hey, don’t get all _blood thirsty assassin_ on me just because you’re feeling a little bit touchy.” Blaise teased, backing away slowly in a joking manner.

He thought this was a joke? The nerve on him! Draco had two minds to hex him to the point of no return.

“ _Touchy?_ ” Draco shrieked, “you try wrapping fifty bloody presents and you tell me how _you_ like it.” he dared.

Blaise shook his head. “That sounds absolutely marvellous, but you know what? I think I’ll pass.” He mocked. “Besides, these beautiful smooth hands weren’t made for manual labour.” He said whilst admiring his hands.

He was done! He was completely done. Seriously, was _everything_ a joke to him? All Draco wanted was to wrap his presents in peace. Was that _too_ much to ask for?

Draco chuckled and Blaise gave him a contemplative look, “No seriously, my hands are a work of art!” he preened proudly and Draco mentally hit his head against the wall. Numerous times.

He shook his head. “You my friend, should take a good look at yourself in the mirror and ask: why would a man have anything to do with me, when they can have a self-sacrificing hero like Draco, who risks his life wrapping presents for Hufflepuff’s?” he asked feeling that some appreciation was in order.

On his behalf, _of course_. After all, he was the one putting his blood, sweat, and tears into wrapping these presents.

“Why would I do that, anyone would take my flawless hands over your overworked ones.” He bit out innocently. “Although, I may take you up on your whole looking at myself in the mirror idea, I truly am something to be admired.” He uttered boastfully.

There was no hope. There was officially no hope. Blaise would forever be vain and doomed to a life of isolation and unhappiness. And right now, Draco couldn't say that he actually gave a fuck.

Draco sighed. “Yes, yes you can be shallow later.” He muttered distractedly, jumping up from his bed and put the last present in a giant red and white velvet bag. “I have some presents to deliver.” He said determinedly.

Blaise laughed. “That bag is bigger than you.” He puffed out. “You look like that great big fat guy that muggles are always talking about.” Ah! He had heard all about the fat man.

Draco didn't like him one bit. The idea that this guy knew when you were sleeping and knew when you were awake. And not to mention the fact that he knew where all the children of the world lived. It had to be the creepiest thing he'd ever heard.

“Father Christmas?” Draco enquired.

Blaise nodded. “That name does sound awfully familiar.” He gave Draco a sceptical glance, “how the bloody hell did you know that?” he asked and now it was Draco's turn to act smug.

Draco breathed out dramatically. “Really Blaise? You act as if I’m not best friends with an eleven-year-old muggle girl.” He said matter-of-factly.

“That’s just sad, Draco.” Blaise cooed.

Draco shrugged. “Life is sad. You either die or get the hell over it. And since I don’t really feel like dying, I’ve chosen the latter.” he said defiantly. He decided that he was a dramatic prince and he didn't care who knew it.

Blaise snorted. “Your bitterness wounds me Draco.” He joked. “My optimism is leaking out.” He howled, clutching his heart as if in pain.

A child. He was best friends with a child. It was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic!

Draco sighed exasperatedly. “Well, please refrain from getting any of your ‘optimism’ on my bed. These are clean sheets.” He pushed a laughing Blaise off.

“Anyways,” Draco continued, “Let’s go, these presents aren’t going to deliver themselves.” He made his way out of the dorms.

Blaise huffed. “Mad. He’s absolutely mad.” he commented a bit too loudly.

“I heard that!” Draco shouted.

“Bollocks!” Blaise muttered before following him out.

….

“And you get a present. And you get a present. And you get a present.” Draco bellowed enthusiastically to a herd of beaming Hufflepuff’s.

They all squealed murmuring a chorus of ‘thank you Draco’s’ and Draco smiled at them before making his was towards the Slytherin table.

Draco sighed out dramatically. He was exhausted. Being nice was so overrated.

He was on the verge of digging into some scrumptious sausages when the Malfoy family owl landed right in front of him.

Draco felt suddenly on edge. It had been weeks since he’d last heard from him mother. With shaky hands, he reached out and pulled the letter from her beak, only stopping to give her a scratch behind her ears.

He carefully opened the letter and his heart stopped.

Written messily at the top of the letter were the words ‘ _Don’t come back home, Draco_.’

He knew his mother had written it. How could she not have? He was scared. He was really, really scared. What could the Dark Lord be doing? Was his mother alright? What would happen if—

“Draco!” Kat tugged his arm, snapping him from his thoughts, he looked up at his friend dizzy with worry.

She gave him a concerned look, “are you okay?” she asked sincerely and Draco didn't no what to say.

Draco took a deep breath and plastered on a fake smile he prayed appeared real, “I’m fine.” He answered simply.

He'd decided to go for the easier option. Because he was fine. Well, in a sense. Okay, he wasn't. But he should be. He _had_ to be.

Kat shook her head in annoyance, “you have got to stop lying to me Draco.” She bit out. “If you do, then I can’t help you.” she said so earnestly that Draco couldn't help but give her something. _Anything_.

He sighed, “you’re right, you’re right.” he repeated. “I’ve just received some unsavoury news from home, that’s all.” he admitted truthfully. Because it wasn't a lie, not really.

“Did your parents divorce?” she questioned innocently. “My parents divorced a year ago and it made me cry.” She started and Draco gave her a sad look.

She gave him a reassuring pat. “Don’t worry, Draco. I’m not sad anymore. Well, not really.” She carried on. “It just means that I get two Christmases and two whole birthdays!” she said excitedly. “Mummy and Daddy still fight when they see each other, I think that mummy doesn’t like daddy’s new girlfriend.” She decided.

Kat moved closer towards him, whispering in his ear, “Daddy’s new girlfriend doesn’t wear a lot of clothes.” She mumbled secretively.

Draco choked on the very air that he was breathing in. “That sounds, umm, extremely interesting.” He attempted. “But don’t worry, my mother and father aren’t getting a divorce.” Well, he didn’t think they were. Could you even facilitate a divorce from Azkaban?

Kat smiled. “That’s great news Draco!” she beamed. “Then why are you sad?” she questioned.

He sighed realising that she wasn’t going to let this go. “My mother wasn’t able to get the potions cauldron that I so desperately wanted.” He lied through his pearly white teeth.

“Oh,” Kat said dejectedly whilst pulling out a neatly wrapped square box, “I’m sorry about the cauldron.” She handed him the present. “This isn’t a cauldron, but I hope you like it.” she muttered shyly.

Draco grinned. “But it isn’t Christmas yet.” He pointed out, trying and failing to mask his excitement.

Kat shook her head, “I want to see the look on your face when you open it. So, open it. Open it. Open it!” she ordered excitedly.

He nodded before unfolding the gift. His eyes became blurry with tears as he stared down at a muggle photograph of the two of them. They were sitting at their favourite tree, Kat was staring up at him in wonder as he spoke passionately about something, a huge smile lighting up his features.

“Kat, I don’t know what to say.” He choked out.

She gave him a toothy smile. “Do you like it?” she asked hopefully.

“Like it?” he started, “I absolutely love it.” he said honestly.

Her eyes lit up with glee and Draco pulled out her present out of his Santa bag.

He sighed light-heartedly. “Well, I was going to wait to give you this until the last day of school.” He started, “but since you’ve already gifted me your amazing present, it seems only fair.” He finished handing her the present.

She squealed in glee, “I wonder what it could be?” she asked as she tore open the gift. She gasped as soon as she lay eyes on it. “Oh Draco, it’s beautiful.” she cried, carefully tracing the sketch of herself staring back at her.

On the sketch, her pupils were wide, full of joy, her brown hair was falling onto her face, her cheekbones were raised and strong. And her smile. Her stunning smile was larger than life, lighting up her entire face. She was the epitome of pure innocence and beauty.

“Turn it over.” He whispered quietly.

She nodded, a single tear fell from her eye, cascading down her pinkened cheek as he saw the back of the drawing.

Four silent words were plastered onto the drawing’s back. Four words that spoke an abundance of truth.

 _You make me happy_.

“I do?” she asked slowly.

Draco nodded. “You do. You make me so, so happy.”

She cried, pulling him into a hug full of tears, love, and trust. “You make me happy too.” She murmured into his ear.

Draco felt a single tear roll down his cheek as he pulled her closer, hoping that the moment never had to end.

….

The last few days before the end of term past by quickly, and before Draco knew it, he was alone in the Slytherin dorms.

The rest of the Slytherin sixth years had gone home for Christmas leaving him without anyone. Pansy, Blaise, Theo and surprisingly Weasley, had offered for Draco to spend Christmas with them, but Draco had politely declined. It just didn’t feel right to spend Christmas with anyone who wasn’t his mother.

He was laying atop of his bed in the Slytherin dorms, thinking about his pathetic, pathetic life. When suddenly, Potter burst through the doors, dramatically lying down on Draco’s bed. What was he doing here? And how the hell did he know the password to get in?

Potter sighed. “If you’re wondering how I got in here, and I know that you are, you gave it to me in second year.” He answered and Draco gave him a confused look.

He couldn't possibly believe that. Draco Lucius Malfoy, the esteemed Slytherin Prince giving up the password. To a Gryffindor at that. No, he just wouldn't accept it.

Potter sat up slowly to face him. “It was nothing. A couple bottles of Polyjuice potion, a Slytherin heir and some bollocks about how Crabbe couldn’t read.” He stated as if what he’d just said had made any sense.

“Potter, that doesn’t make any sense you bumbling idiot.” Potter said in a posh voice as if he were trying to imitate Draco.

Draco rolled his eyes, because yes, Draco normally sounded exactly like a younger Snape. He should thank Potter for that stupid observation.

He laughed, “Anyways, Potter what on earth are you doing here?” he said once again in that terribly offensive tone. Draco did not sound like that!

“Well, Draco, since you’re acting like an antisocial dim whit and refusing to accept any Christmas invitations, I’m staying here.” He proclaimed, scooting closer towards Draco.

Draco felt his heart speed up as Potter continued, “Like hell am I going to let you spend Christmas all by yourself.” He declared.

Potter coughed. “Why thank you Harry, you’re the sweetest, most wonderful person that I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting.” Draco frowned, because he _did not_ sound like that, for Merlin’s sake!

Potter smiled putting his arms around Draco, “don’t get mad” he started hesitantly and Draco glared at him, this couldn’t be good. “but I may or may not have accepted Mrs Weasley’s Christmas dinner invitation on your behalf.” He stammered out and Draco hit him.

“Didn’t I tell you not to get mad?” Potter defended whilst tending to he assumed sore arm.

Draco sneered at him and Potter grinned daftly, “Well, Potter I didn’t tell you to accept any of my invitations and you did, so I guess we both don’t get what we want.” Potter bit out and Draco almost smiled, because that maybe just a teeny bit, that sounded a lot like Draco.

Potter shrugged. “You’re right Draco, I accepted your invitation without your permission and I’m sorry.” He started and Draco glared. “But you’re going no matter what, so don’t attempt to fight me on this.” He informed in defiance and Draco saw little point in trying to object.

“Besides,” Potter carried on, “No one declines Mrs Weasley’s food.” He narrowed his eyes at Draco, “ _No one_.” Potter warned and Draco sighed defeatedly, this was _not_ how it was meant to go.

So, it seemed that instead of spending Christmas alone basking in the peace and quiet, he was being shipped off to the noisy Weasleys. Great, just great.

Potter smiled. “Fine Potter, I’ll come. But don’t think I’m happy about it.”

Potter gave him a tight squeeze, “how I just love it when you cooperate.” He teased snuggling closer towards him.

Draco suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable. He was selfish. Potter had cancelled his plans, missed out on spending time with his family, just so that Draco didn’t spend Christmas alone. He’d even gone as far as to accept the Weasley’s invitation for Christmas, when Draco had been too afraid to. 

And all Draco could do was say nothing. He said absolutely nothing. He used to think it was because he didn’t deserve Potter. That not speaking to him made it seem less real. That he’d soften the blow when he inevitably betrayed Potter to save his mother.

But that wasn’t the case anymore.

Not speaking to Potter was a safety blanket. A protection for Draco’s heart. He’d denied Potter communication all because he was scared. Well, he wouldn’t be scared anymore. He couldn’t.

Draco took a quick glance at the man cuddled next to him and felt a sinking feeling in the pits of his stomach. He knew what he wanted to do. Of what he had to do.

He was going to tell Potter.

….

It was Christmas Eve and Potter and himself were cuddled up next to one another in front of the common room fireplace.

It was nice.

He had Potter’s present wrapped messily beside him, and he suddenly felt nervous.

Potter smiled at him before handing him a neatly wrapped present. Draco’s fingers shook as he carefully unwrapped the present to find a ring attached to a necklace. He gasped, his hands flying to his mouth.

“I’m not proposing.” Potter started nervously, “Well, not yet anyways.” He chuckled picking the ring up from it’s box. “I charmed the ring, with Hermione’s help, but it was mostly all me.” He stumbled out. “It carries my magical signature, so wherever you go, if you feel happy, scared, or sad, I’ll always be there.” He murmured clasping the necklace around Draco’s neck.

“You’ll always have a piece of me with you.” He said sweetly and Draco looked up at him in awe, a single tear rolling down his cheek. It was beautiful. He was _beautiful_.

Potter grinned goofily, “So I’m guessing that you like it?” he teased and Draco nodded frantically giving him a small peck on the lips.

With a shaky breath, Draco’s hands wrapped around Potter’s own present, handing it to him. Potter smiled before hastily opening it.

Potter gasped and Draco held his breath. Inside was two pieces of paper. One was a sketch of Potter and himself by the lake, looking up at the stars in awe. It was the moment that Potter had told Draco about his parents, and the moment that everything had changed. It captured the moment that Draco felt safe, free, like he belonged.

Potter’s eyes shone with tears, “I don’t know what to say, no one has ever done anything like this for me before.” He said through tears. “Thank you, thank you so much.” He cried and Draco grimaced, Potter shouldn’t be thanking him just yet, he thought as he gestured to the second sheet of paper.

“What’s this?” Potter asked sceptically, picking up the sheet and reading over it.

“You make me feel safe.” Potter started to read out loud, “when I’m with you, I feel nothing but happiness. I feel wanted. Need. As if I’m not alone.” Potter looked up at Draco with wide eyes, and Draco gestured for him to continue. 

“I know that I don’t deserve you. But you make me want to become a better person. To be the person that I know I can be. Someone I can love. Someone I can look up to. I want to be someone who stands up for what he believes in. Someone who’s not scared to do the right thing. I want to be that person. I wish more than anything, that I were that person.” Potter read, his voice starting to waver.

Potter took a deep breath before carrying on. “But I’m not that person. I’ve never been that person. I don’t think I’ll ever be that person.” Potter’s voice cracked, and Draco felt sick. He didn’t want this. He couldn’t do this. But he would. He had to.

“I’ve done something terrible. I carry it with me all day, every day. It serves as a scar. A reminder. Of what I am. Of what I’ll never be. Of whom I’ll always be.” Potter’s eyes shone with fresh tears. “I wish I could say that I didn’t want to do it. That I was forced. But the truth is, I wasn’t. I thought I was being brave. I thought I was making my father proud. But I wasn’t. I never have. I don’t think I ever will.” 

The tears were running freely down both of their faces. “The second I’d done it, I realised how much of a mistake it had been. I was a coward. A freak. A puppet. I was making my father’s choices not my own. I feel dirty. Worn. Used. I’ve been marked. My soul blackened. And I regret it. I’ll always regret it.” Potter finished.

Slowly, Potter looked up at Draco. Vulnerable grey met emotion filled blue. With a deep breath, Draco pulled up his sleeve to reveal his mistake. “ _I’m sorry_.” He whispered.

Potter took a sharp intake of breath, frantically shaking his head. “No. No. No. No. NO!” Potter shouted. “Draco, No. Why?” he cried.

Draco shook his head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.” He said deliriously. “This is a good thing. It’s a good thing.” He repeated. “Now you can stay away from me. You have to stay away from me.”

Potter opened his mouth to speak, but Draco cut him off. “I’m not a good person. No, I’m a terrible person. I’m giving you a way out. A chance to find someone special. To find someone better than I am. Someone who isn’t a disgusting Death Eater. Someone who isn’t me. Go. Just go.” Draco ordered sadly.

“No.”

Draco’s eyes widened. “I said go.” He repeated, urging Potter to listen to him. Why didn't Potter just listen to him? He could save them _both_ from a lot of pain. Draco was sure of it.

“And I said no.” Potter bit out defiantly stepping even closer towards him.

Draco splutter incredulously, “But I’m dirty. I’m tainted. You need to stay the hell away from me.” He shouted.

Potter put his arms firmly on Draco’s shoulder’s, holding him in place. “Am I disappointed that you took the mark? Yes. Do I wish that you hadn’t? Absolutely.” He started and Draco was frozen in his place.  
“But do I think you’re dirty? No. Do I think that you’re tainted. Of course, not. Will I stay away from you? No chance in hell.” He carried on looking straight into Draco’s eyes. “You’re not a terrible person Draco. You’ve apologised to Ron and Hermione, you’re even good friends now. You help those in need. You make people happy. You stood by me even after all the crap I’d put you through. Hell! You’re even best friends with Hufflepuff’s.”

Draco opened his mouth to object but Potter cut him off. “You could have hidden it. You could’ve allowed me to remain oblivious. But you didn’t. You wouldn’t. And that’s what sets you apart from all of the other Death Eater’s. That’s what makes you special.” He scooted even closer to Draco and his breath hitched, his hands becoming clammy.

Potter cupped Draco’s draw, stroking it gently. “I’ll tell you one thing.” He started. “You’ve never been more beautiful than you are in this moment.” He whispered earnestly before smashing his lips onto Draco’s.

His mouth was soft, his lips just brushing against Draco’s slowly at first. His body started to tremble, but Potter was careful, so gentle. He cups his face even tighter and kisses Draco passionately until little sounds well up in the back of his throat, his mouth opening up for him as he feels Potter’s tongue slide in. He tastes of chocolate, of treacle tart, but mostly, he tastes of home.

He didn’t know how he thought it would feel to have another person’s tongue inside his mouth. To have someone explore you, to take care of you, to devour you – but he’d never thought that it would feel like this. His kisses were confident and long, determined but awfully refined. He feels like he was melting, as if he were slowly loosing himself in Potter’s heat. Potter brings one hand against Draco’s chest and used the other to cup the back of his head, and Draco groans into his mouth, low and hungry.

“Fuck, Draco…” He kisses the line of his jaw, working down slowly towards the nape of his neck. “Is this okay?” Potter asked in between kisses and Draco nodded, pulling Potter closer. His hand slipped under his shirt, his fingers possessive and full of wanting as they slide over his skin.

Draco arches against him. He barely knows what he’s doing. He just knows that he has to be closer. To have this with the person who accepts him. With the only person that he feels safe with. Who he feels at home with. Potter looks at him with determination, with pure awe and admiration as his hands move all over his back. His kisses become more demanding, and then he grips Draco’s arse, pulling him onto his lap. He was dizzy. He closes his eyes once more, and he can still feel him, can smell him, can’t taste anything but Potter. It’s harder now, louder.

“God, I want you.” His hands slips under Draco’s pyjama top. “Please Draco, let me have you.” He begged.

Draco nodded. “Yes, yes have me.” He gasped out. “I want you, only you.” He murmured. Draco could feel Potter’s erection, hot and hard through his bottoms. He squirmed against his lap, allowing himself to press against his erection, again and again, breathless with want as Potter’s eyes flashed with desire. Draco wants him. He can only pray that Potter wanted him just as much.

He sets a rhythmic pace, perched in Potter’s lap, grinding away on his cock. He absently wonder’s if he could make Potter come like this. He groans at the thought. Potter’s eyes start to lose focus, his breath catching in his throat, as he lets out a deep moan deep from within his chest.

“Stop…” he says and Draco shakes his head. He doesn’t want to stop. But he reaches up and holds him still. “I want this to be good for you.” He breathes out.

Draco’s heart flutters, and at that moment he doesn’t want to feel anything else. He wanted to feel Potter’s cock buried deep into his tight heat. He wanted to feel Potter lose control. He wanted to feel connected to Potter in every way. 

God, you’re so beautiful.” Potter mutters, stroking Draco’s jaw.

He sets Draco down carefully on the ground, besides the warm fire. Slowly, he begins to unbutton his shirt, revealing his slender but somewhat toned frame. Draco turns from him slightly, suddenly feeling extremely self-conscious. He hates his body. He’s always hated his body. Potter tuts, steering Draco’s face to look at him. “You’re gorgeous.” He says earnestly before kissing him once more.

Draco lies there, watching silently, as he works on his own bottoms, carefully taking them off. Potter’s cock is thick, long and Draco just wants to ravish it. Once they were both naked, Potter grabs hold of his feet, placing them firmly upon his shoulders. Draco started to squirm. “Shhh, shhh.” Potter whispered, stroking Draco’s face. “I’ll make it good. I promise. I just want you to feel so good.”

Potter mutters a wandless spell before his inserts one finger deep into Draco’s heat. “Fuck!” Draco whimpers, arching up against him. He pushes in further and Draco clenches around this thick, lubed finger.  
His head falls back. He can’t think about anything but Potter’s touch. How it feels to have Potter need him so much. 

A second finger joins the first, it’s slick and hot, and Draco sucks him in, again and again. He feels as if he were floating, like he’s high on complete bliss. Potter inserts another finger, and Draco’s at a complete loss when he hits the spot deep inside of him. “Uhh…Potter…I need…” He gasped out frantically.

“I know what you need.” Potter reassures him, whilst stretching him to completion. Draco’s eyes roll to the back of his head in complete pleasure.

Potter touches his lips to the silver scars on Draco’s chest, and then does a double take. “I did that?” he croaked out, his eyes filling with tears.

Draco shook his head. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” He repeated. “I forgive you.” He said earnestly. Potter opened his mouth to protest, but Draco silenced him with a kiss, one full of tenderness and forgiveness. “I forgive you. So, please take me. I need this. I need you.”

Potter nodded before pushing inside of him so carefully, patiently, as if he were scared he was going to break. It hurts mainly because it’s his first time but knowing that Potter was inside of him. That Potter wanted him, was worth it.

“So tight.” Potter gasps out as he takes hold of Draco’s wrists, pinning them above his head, as he presses into him with small, soft strokes. 

Draco moaned. “More. More!” He begged, arching up against him, pulling him closer than humanly possible. Potter chuckles before slamming into him, hard, fierce, and sure, giving Draco exactly what he needed, of what he’d always needed.

His rhythm is ferocious now as he pumps into him with everything he’s got. “Draco. Oh god, Draco.” He cries and Draco nods too far gone to speak. “So beautiful. You’re so, so beautiful.” he murmurs fucking deeper into him. 

Potter growls picking up his neglected cock, giving it a couple of long, firm strokes. “Come for me.” He demands and Draco cries out, coming in long, desperate spurts, drenching them both with his juices.

Draco howls. “Come Potter, fill me up with your come. Make me yours. Mark me. Mark me.” He screamed as Potter fucked him twice more before he too was coming in great waves inside Draco.

They stayed like that for several moments, before Potter pulled out of Draco, murmuring a cleaning spell before pulling him close. “Sleep.” He whispered softly and Draco hummed, feeling safer than he’d ever felt.

….

Draco woke up with a smile on his face absently noticing that he was in an actual bed, as he felt strong arms pull him in closer.

He groaned as he felt Potter’s hard length rub against the crack of his arse, and Draco greedily moved his hips so his arse was rubbing against Potter’s cock.

“Morning.” Potter greeted huskily and Draco turned around to face him.

He smiled. “Morning.” He replied softly.

Potter gave him a quick peck on the lips. “Was last night okay?” he asked shyly and Draco wholeheartedly couldn't put into words how good it had been.

There was no going back now. He'd become a part of Potter and Potter had become a part of him. Last night had been all that he'd ever wanted. It was far more than he'd ever deserve. 

Draco gave him a reassuring grin. “It was perfect.” He answered honestly without giving too much detail. He preferred to leave some parts to Potter's imagination.

He hummed. “I’m glad.” He locked his fingers into Draco’s messy hair. “We have to get up soon, we have to get to the Weasley’s for lunch.” He sighed dejectedly and Draco knew know he felt.

To be frank, he'd want nothing more than to spend the day in bed with Potter, wrapped in each other's arms. His lips curled into a cunning smirk, a evil twinkle in his eyes.

Draco turned round so that he was looking into lazy green eyes, “but I like doing this.” He stated as he cupped Potter’s balls, giving them a squeeze.

Potter moaned as he arched into Draco’s touch, “and I love you doing that.” He gasped out. “But do you know what I like better?” he asked flirtatiously.

“What?” Draco rasped; his voice drenched with lust.

Potter chuckled. “Shower sex.” he smirked mischievously, a suggestive glint residing in his velvet eyes, That _did_ sound good.

Draco groaned at the statement, heat pooling between his legs. “You’ve had it before?” he asked, conscious of the slight edge to his voice.

He shook his head. “No, but I’d like to.” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Draco slapped his arm playfully, “you’re an idiot.” He laughed as he dragged himself out of bed, suddenly aware of the fact that he was stark naked. Potter eyed him hungrily.

“Well, come on then.” Draco urged. “Or I’ll just jerk myself off.” He threatened.

Potter shook his head vigorously. Before walking over to Draco and pulling him over his shoulder.

"Put me down you inbred!” Draco demanded, and Potter laughed carrying him towards the showers.

….

Draco had no words to describe how good the shower had been. Potter’s hands were just… well, a gentleman never tells.

He sighed, Potter had gone to get a few of his things from Gryffindor tower, and Draco was surrounded with confusion.

Literally.

It was his guilty pleasure. If his father ever found out, then well, Draco didn’t want to think about that.

He was currently sitting crossed legged in the middle of the Slytherin common room. A thing called a screwdriver in one hand and a toasterer in the other. There were plastic snakes scattered all around him.

Draco was breaking a sweat. He was fascinated. What was in this thing? He’d heard from a friend that it made toast. But Draco couldn’t find the bread. Where was it?

“What in Merlin’s name is going on here?” Potter laughed in amusement.

Draco turned round to face him, startled. “I can’t find the bread.” He said simply, diverting his attention back onto the appliance.

“The bread?” Potter questioned.

Draco nodded, still immersed in his investigating. “Yes, the bread.” He answered with disinterest, “it’s called a toasterer.” He added.

Potter chuckled. “I think you mean a toaster.” he corrected.

He glared at him. “That’s what I said.” Draco pointed out, his attention still on the device. It was just so immersing, so complicated, He felt it his duty to figure it out. Nothing was too big for Draco Malfoy to figure out. He was sure of it.

Potter shook his head. “No, you didn’t, you called it a toasterer.” he said again and Draco wanted to chop his balls off. He would've done it most definitely. It was just now he had formed an attachment with Potter's balls that he didn't plan on severing any time soon.

Draco shrugged. “I know, that’s what it’s called.” He said again, frustrated that Potter would even dare to question him.

Potter crouched down next to him. “No, it’s called a toaster.” He repeated for a second time.

Draco rolled his eyes, “I know. Stop acting like I’m stupid, I _know_ what it’s called.” He spat out in annoyance, half of it directed at Potter, the other half at the stupid muggle device that had deemed itself too presige to cooperate.

He sighed a defeated sigh. “Fine, Draco, you was right and I was wrong.” he admitted and Draco preened, because _of course_ he was.

“I’m always right.” Draco smugly commented. “I really don’t understand these muggles, where do they hide the bread?” he asked Potter, whilst slamming the toasterer onto the floor.

Potter flinched, patting Draco’s shoulder. “The bread doesn’t come with the toaster. You put it into these little slits, then press on this button and it toasts the bread.” He answered.

“That doesn’t make any sense.” Draco sighed dramatically.

“Yes, it does.”

Draco glared at him. “No, it doesn’t. Why not have built in bread? Why build this confusing contraption? Why not use a charm to toast the bread?”

Potter laughed. “Because bread goes off after a few days. The contraption is useful, and muggles don’t have magic.” He reminded Draco gently.

He nodded. “Oh yes, I forgot how helpless muggles were. Poor people.” He commented suddenly feeling quite sorry for the muggles incompetence.

Potter gave Draco a long kiss before rising to his feet. “You’re adorable.” He smirked and Draco frowned. “Anyways, lets head up to Dumbledore’s floo or else we’re going to be late.”

“Damn it! I didn’t get anyone except Hermione and Weasley presents.” He moaned. Trust him to completely forget to buy a few extra last minute gifts. Actually, it was quite unlike him.

He blamed Potter. Stupid Potter with his stupid glasses and his stupid scar and his stupid, stupid fat dick. Distracting Draco like that. How so very rude!

Potter smiled. “And that is why I put your name on every gift I’ve brought them.” 

Draco gave him a peck on the lips. “Thank you, you’re perfect.” He said earnestly, not quite understanding what he had done to deserve the man standing before him.

He blushed. “I know, now let’s go.” He urged quickly, pulling Draco to his feet.

“Can I bring my toasterer?” he asked hopefully.

There was no question about it. Draco was bringing his toasterer and that was that.

“If you must. Arthur will love it.” he assured Draco and that just made him feel a million times more confident. He wanted to make a good impression on the Weasley's.

They were Potter's family, he desperately craved their acceptance. And he wasn't sure that he was going to get it, especially after all he'd said and done to them.

Draco grinned before picking up his appliance and following Potter out.

….

To say that his introduction at the Burrow had been unusual, then that was an understatement.

When they’d arrived Hermione and Weasley had pulled him in for a giant hug, that was…nice.

The Weaselette had sneered at him.

Bill had shook hands with him, Fleur his girlfriend had excitedly commented that she was sure that he had veela blood.

Mr Weasley had given him a strong pat on the back, whilst thanking him for being there for Harry and his son.

The twins wouldn’t stop calling him the ‘oh so Dark Young One.’

And Mrs Weasley had pulled him in for a bear crushing hug, then commented on how thin he was, before finally gifting him with a green woollen jumper with a silver D stitched onto the front. If Draco teared up a little bit, then that wasn’t anybody’s business.

Draco was currently sat next to Potter at the dinning table, surrounded by a flock of chatting Weasleys.

“So dear,” Mrs Weasley started, “my lazy son here tells me that you’re the reason that he scored an O on his potions project.” He beamed at him, lumping a huge piece of chicken breast onto his plate.

Draco opened his mouth to object but was cut by Weasley. “Yeah mum, Malfoy’s some sort of _fucking_ potions freak. It’s mad, it is.” He boasted and Draco could literally see the daggers that Mrs Weasley was shooting his way.

“Language, Ronald!” Mrs Weasley tutted and Weasley turned a deep shade of red.

“Sorry mum.” He muttered sheepishly.

The Weasley twins coughed. “Oh so, Dark Young one” they said at the exact same time.

“We have a question.” Weasley one started with a mischievous glint in his eye.

Weasley two nodded. “Does Potter take it up the arse?”

“Or do you?” they both raised an eyebrow and Draco turned a very deep shade of burgundy.

Well, he couldn't disclose that piece of information. He deemed it quite inappropriate for the dinner table. So, he found himself at a loss.

“Uhm, erm, uhm.” Draco spluttered uncomfortably.

Mrs Weasley glared at her two boys. “Fred and George Weasley. I’d keep your mouths shut, or so help it I’ll cut of both off your tongues!” she threatened and Draco decided that he liked this woman.

He looked at the twins dejected faces, he took that back. He _really_ liked this woman.

The twins laughed before returning back to their food.

“So, Draco,” Hermione started and Draco turned to face her. “Did you like the potions book I got you?” she asked almost shyly.

Ah yes, the potions book! It was over a thousand pages long, and he had to shamefully admit, he couldn't _wait_ to start reading it.

He beamed at her. “Very much. It’s got many potions that I didn’t know even existed.” He exclaimed excitedly.

She smiled. “That’s exactly why I got it; I knew that it posed a challenge so I—”

“Yes, yes. Very interesting.” Weasley cut in, “Now let’s talk about the chicken that I gifted him.” he chirped.

Potter burst into laughter. “You got him chicken for Christmas?” he asked almost disbelievingly and Draco truly did understand Potter's disbelief. He hardly believed it himself.

Chicken... Weasley had gifted him chicken for Christmas. Well, it was unique. He'd give him that.

Weasley nodded. “Of course, I did, Malfoy loves chicken.” He said proudly shoving a piece of chicken it his fat gob.

The Weaselette scoffed. “Really?” she drawled. “Because I’m quite sure that he loves sausage much more.” She spat and Draco paled. “Harry’s sausage to be exact.”

Oh he hated her. How he hated her! He'd never liked the Weaselette, he'd always seen her as something close to a bully. And not like Draco had been, no, she was worse.

At least Draco didn't pretend to hide who he was, he was open about it. The Weaselette on the other hand hid behind the light, her family and Potter, shooting hexes at those who hardly deserved it claiming that it was okay because she was on the right side of the war. Bloody hypocrite!

“Ginevra Molly Weasley!” Mrs Weasley huffed. “I’ve taught you better than that.” She said pointedly.

Fleur laughed. “Dhere iz nothing wrong with za little bit of sauzage.” She glanced fondly at a blushing Bill before biting into a fat, juicy sausage.

Bill coughed. “Anyways, what’s that?” he asked Draco pointing at his lap.

Draco’s face lit up with excitement. “Oh, that is my toasterer.” He smiled proudly. “I’m trying to find the bread.” He declared.

“Toaster.” Harry sighed. “It’s called a toaster.”

Mr Weasley perked up. “A toasterer you say?” Draco nodded. “I wonder if you’ve ever heard of a rubber duck. Remarkable things.” He commented and Draco’s eyes widened with glee.

The whole table erupted into a chorus of protests.

….

Draco was lying on the floor bed that he was sharing with Potter in Weasley’s room. He was happy.

He was really, really happy.

He missed his mother dearly. He even missed his father. But they’d never had a Christmas like this. Despite how wonderful the Christmas were when he’d been younger, they’d never been this… warm.

Mrs Weasley’s cooking skills had not been exaggerated by Potter. Draco felt as if he could never eat again. He didn’t even want to eat again. Unless, it was Mrs Weasley’s cooking.

Draco was scared. He was scared about his task. He was scared about deceiving Potter. He was scared that he’d never be able to do the right thing.

But right now. right now, Draco was happy.

Potter crept into the room and bent down to give Draco a quick peck on the lips.

He smirked mischievously, “Do you mind if I Slyther-In?” he asked and Draco glared.

Potter slept on the couch that night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There may or may not have been a teeny bit of angst squeezed within all that fluff. I couldn't help it, I live for ANGST! So, that was my first time writing smut... was it any good? Draco/Muggle Appliances/Sausages is life!!! A lil teaser for next Chapter: The calm before the storm....


	8. Chapter Eight.

The deed was almost done.

Draco was almost finished, and he was scared. He was so, so scared.

It had been months since those joyous few weeks that were the Christmas holidays, and it was now only a couple of weeks before the end of the school year.

His relationship with Potter had been going from strength to strength, and it were those moments spent with him, that Draco felt happiest.

It sickened him that in a few days’ time, Draco would betray the man he cared most about. It had to be done. There was no other choice.

He had finished fixing the vanishing cabinet.

It stood tall and proud before him, radiating a vibe of grandeur and deceit. 

Draco had yet to assassinate his Headmaster, but he had a plan for that. He had a plan for _everything_.

His father had escaped from Azkaban a few months before, and Draco had felt conflicted when he’d found that out. On the one hand, it was his father and he loved him. On the other, his father was a prejudice bastard who had sold his family out to the devil himself.

You could see why Draco would be concerned about this particular qualm.

Potter had held Draco when he’d found out, pulling him close and telling him that everything was going to be okay. It was more than Draco deserved.

In other news, Draco had finally found out why Potter was obscenely good at potions this year. The sneaky bastard had been using Snape’s book this whole bloody time! Well… Potter didn’t _exactly_ know that it was Snape’s book that he was using. Draco couldn’t bare to think what Potter would do if he found out. Oh well, what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him.

The moral of his little discovery remains intact... Draco was still better than Potter in potions. Suck on that you little Gryffindor cheat!

Huh.

So, _maybe_ Draco was starting to understand what Blaise meant by his obvious flare for the dramatics.

Well it wasn’t his fault that Draco wanted to tie Potter to a quidditch pole and leave him up there for the dementors, for even dare thinking that he could be better than Draco at something.

He took it back.

He was _not_ dramatic.

He’s just merely extremely realistic. Blaise just can’t handle his truths. It was quite so very sad if you asked Draco.

Anyways, the cabinet was more or less fixed, and Death Eaters were planning their descent into Hogwarts. Father would be proud. Mother would be reeling. And Draco… well Draco, he was disgusted with himself.

He couldn’t change anything. He couldn’t do anything all over again. He couldn’t stop it.

But there was no need to worry, Draco had a plan.

And he needed the Hufflepuff’s.

….

“So, I’m sure you all know why I’ve called you here today.” he told them seriously as he entered the abandoned classroom.

The Hufflepuff first-year’s blinked in confusion, absently shaking their heads. Really? Had his message _not_ been clear enough. Sometimes he really didn't know what to do with the Hufflepuff's.

Kat let out a small cough. “No not really.” She told him and Draco had to admit, he was just a _tad_ disappointed in her.

Actually, he was disappointed in all of them. And here he was thinking he'd trained them better than that. Well, obviously he was wrong.

Draco sighed. “Well, why do _you_ think I’ve called this group meeting?” he asked them dismayed to be given a bunch of blank faces in return.

“You literally never called a group meeting.” Piggy started and Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “We followed you into this classroom. You didn’t say anything.” She defended and the rest of them nodded.

Okay, okay, he saw how they wanted to play it. If they wanted to act ignorant, then Draco would _show_ them ignorant.

He huffed, glaring at them in determination. “Did I or did I not wiggle my arse suggestively as an indicator for you all to follow?” he growled out.

Piggy shook her head and Draco wanted to hex her. “No, we just followed you in here because we _always_ follow you.” she countered, and Draco was at his wits end.

Wait, a second! Always followed him? Well, that was kind of... sweet.

Draco eyes softened a facture. “Well, I’d always suspected it, but it just feels so nice to hear you say it out loud.” He gushed smiling like a loon before realising that he was being led off topic. 

Meddling little buggers!

He coughed loudly. “Anyways, the fact still remains that I wiggled my arse, like this.” He turned around shaking his arse with everything he had, before facing them once more, “in order to get you all to follow me.” He stated matter-of-factly.

Piggy opened her mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off by Kat. “Yes Draco, your signal was _excellent_ , we wouldn’t have known to follow you without it.” she mused. “And your arse wiggle made it look so perky" she admired, and in that moment he was reminded why he loved her so much.

Draco blushed. “Well, it is a pretty fabulous arse.” He murmured taking a sneak peek at the wonderous bump.

“Are we going to keep talking about Draco’s arse or are why going to talk about why it called us in here?” Big-mouth Jerry commented and Draco growled at him.

Ah Jerry! Always _such_ a ray of sunshine. Questioning and doubting Draco's every move, he just _loved_ that.

“Well… _Jerry_ , I was just getting to that.” He took a deep breath. “As you know we have just over fifteen Muggleborns at Hogwarts, Kat being one of them.” He smiled at her and she preened.

Jerry huffed. “And what does that have to do with anything?” he bit out and Draco wanted to hex him.

“If you’d just let me get to that Jerry.” He said _calmly_.

Draco sighed, clutching his want tightly from his robe pocket. “Anyways, I need the names, years, houses, and addresses of each last one of them.” He put simply, hoping that they'd agree with no objections.

Obviously, Jerry seemed to have other ideas.

“Why do we need all of those?” Jerry butted in and Draco saw red, he pulled his wand out waving it at the boy frantically.

“Well, MAYBE if you let me talk once in a while, then FUCKING MAYBE, I’ll be able to answer your questions.” Draco spat angrily and the boy started to quiver.

Victory had never tasted so great!

Jerry nodded mutely, and Draco shoot him a vicious mile. “Good.” He carried on, “anyways, I need them for my Muggle class project.” he lied through his pearly white teeth, hoping they wouldn't ask any questions.

Yet again, Jerry seemed to have other plans...

“But you don’t take Muggle studies.” Jerry remarked and Draco hated the law that said you couldn’t castrate children. Very inconvenient, that was.

Draco’s nostrils flared. “Well, _Jerry_ I’m helping a friend out.” He snapped. He'd had enough. Seriously, he'd had it up to _here_!

He honestly didn't know how Jerry's parents put up with him, but he gave them a small round of applause in his head.

Jerry gave him a confused look, “But you don’t have a lot of friends Draco.” he said almost innocently.

Well, that hurt.

He blinked back the tears. “Yes well, I have one and they need help on their project, so I’m bloody well helping them. Problem?” he sneered at the boy.

Jerry shook his head, and finally, finally he shut the hell up.

A cheery voice perked up. “So, Draco, when do you need this all done by?” Kat supplied helpfully, and Draco loved her.

He smiled. “The end of the week, at the latest.” He answered, shooting her one of his rare, signature smiles.

“But that’s three days away.” Jerry complained and Draco wanted to strangle him. The boy Just. Did. Not. Shut. Up!

Draco glared at him. “Well then, you’d better get on with it.” he spat. “In fact, you all better get on with it.” he proclaimed ushering them out of the room. “Chop. Chop. I haven’t got all bloody day.” He waved them off in a chorus of bye Draco’s.

He sighed, slamming the door behind them, and leant against the frame. He loved his Hufflepuff’s he really did. It was just _sometimes_ he wanted to plot each and every one of their unfortunate demises.

….

Draco and Potter were sitting by the lake, the stars above them, shimmering in the moonlight. Their hands entwined together; palms sweaty.

Draco turned to face Potter. He really was beautiful. With his curly black hair, golden skin, and emerald green eyes. He was a work of art. And his heart. His big, beautiful heart. That was Draco’s favourite part of him.

Potter smiled at him, leaning in to give him a quick peck on the lips. “Whatchya thinking about?” he asked.

Draco shrugged. “You.” he told him gently, because it was true.

If he were honest, Draco didn't think there was a time where he wasn't thinking about Potter. The man had stolen his mind, just as he'd stolen his heart.

Wow... that was cheesy. He _really_ needed to get out more.

Potter blushed, looking extremely flustered. “Really?” he questioned; his eyes wide.

It warmed his heart to see Potter so innocent. So completely oblivious towards Draco's feelings towards him. Didn't he realise just how much he meant to Draco?

Obviously not, so Draco better remind him, and carry on to spend the rest of their days reminding him. “Of course, but don’t let it go to your head.” He started. “I can stop thinking about you just as quickly as I started.” He threatened light heartedly. 

Potter smiled, before his eyes grew wide in realization, as remembrance adorably washed over his face. 

“Oh!” he quirked. “Just in case I forget.” He said digging into his pockets retrieving a circle.

It was medium sized, composed of a big circle, with two mini circles on top, as well as, a large circular centre which had numbers inscribed onto it.

It. Was. Ugly!

Draco gave him a confused look. “What the hell is that?” he bit out, giving the contraption a once over, shivering slightly.

He chuckled. “It’s an alarm clock.” Draco raised a confused brow. “It’s muggle.” Potter carried on and Draco beamed.

Muggle? Well, _why_ didn't Potter say that in the first place? He eyed the device greedily.

He snatched the peculiar device from Potter. _M_ _ine_ he thought deviously. “Muggle?” he said hopefully and Potter grinned. Draco stared at the contraption in complete awe before his face started to fall. “But I don’t have my turny breaky thing.” He muttered sadly. “How am I supposed to look inside it?”, he started to shake it frantically.

Potter’s eyes gleamed. “Do you mean this?” He smirked producing a turny breaky thing. Draco clapped enthusiastically, before snatching it from him.

Mine. Mine. Mine! Mine to break, mine to open, mine to play with. MINE! He stuck his tongue out in deep concentration as he breached the device.

Potter laughed. “And it’s called a screwdriver.” He corrected and Draco looked at him as if he were stupid.

Draco sighed. “That’s what I said. A turny breaky thing.” He stated simply. “You have _got_ to get your ears checked.” he chastised, before turning his attention back to his task. 

Potter smiled, observing Draco with interest. After several seconds he took a deep breath. “Have you ever thought of the world?” he asked.

Has he ever thought about the world? Well, not right now. He was _trying_ to break his muggle device, that's all her cared about.

Draco raised a brow. “Really?” he deadpanned. “Of course, I’ve thought of the world. I bloody live there.” he told him absently. 

He shook his head. “No, I don’t mean like that.” He started. “I mean really thought about it. Of how it houses so many different beings. Of how every part is too big to explore in a lifetime. Of how wonderful it is.” He spoke passionately, and his wonder made Draco's heart squeeze.

Draco nodded. “You could say that it’s quite fascinating.” He said slowly, before diverting his attention back onto his appliance.

“Oh, it is,” he replied. “When it’s all done. When it’s all over, the first thing I’m going to do is travel. Just because I can.” He said enthusiastically. The _if_ I can hung silently between them. 

Draco smiled sadly. “I think that’s an excellent idea.” he told him, wanting to just have a few precious moments without the weight of the world hanging from them.

Potter grinned. “You can come with me.” he said excitedly and Draco froze.

It wasn't that he didn't want to go with Potter, of course he waned to go with him. But he couldn't. Not after what he was about to do. As much as it broke him, this thing with Potter had an expiration date.

He prayed, he hoped with his whole hard that wasn't the case, that they'd make it. But a part of him knew that wasn't true. That it would _always_ fall true.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Draco choked out, full of guilt.

Potter shook his head, clasping Draco’s hand with him. “No, I think that it’s an amazing idea. There’s no one I’d rather spend my time with.” He said solemnly. “Please say you’ll come.” He pleaded.

Draco opened his mouth to speak when… BRINGGGGGGGGGGGGGG

Potter and he jumped apart, them both laughing profusely. “Maybe you should stop playing with the muggle clock?” He suggested.

Draco nodded as they dissolved into another outburst of laughter. He never did answer Potter’s question.

….

Draco was sitting at the Slytherin table in the Great Hall when the Malfoy family owl landed right in front of him.

What _now_? He thought with annoyance. He almost never received any owls from home, so seeing the owl in front of him, filled him with deep dread.

He carefully plucked the letter from the owls beak, before giving her a friendly pat and opening the letter.

‘ _Six a.m. Common room. Don’t be late_.’

Draco’s heart sunk. This could only mean one thing. His Father.

He’d been dreading the day that his father would want to get in touch with him. It’s wasn't so much that he didn’t like his father and didn’t exactly want to see him. It was more an issue that he hated his father at present and couldn’t think of anything worse than seeing him.

“Draco.” Pansy hissed, and he abruptly to face her, shoving the note safely into his pocket.

He shot her an unappreciative glance. “What?” he bit back. He knew that he was being unfair, but he'd couldn't bring himself to care in that moment.

In fact, he couldn't really bring himself to care about anything much. And his ability to turn off, to detach himself like that. Well... it scared him.

She rolled her eyes. “You weren’t listening to a word I was saying, was you?” she chastised and Draco knew he should feel bad. He _knew_ he should. 

But, he didn't. No, he had much more pressing matters to put his time and energy into.

Draco shook his head. “I’m sorry, my head’s just all over the place.” He sighed, hoping that the somewhat of an admittance would get her off his back..

“What’s going on with you Draco?” she asked, her voice laced with concern.

“Nothing.” he simply told her. Because _nothing_ was wrong. Nothing was secure. Nothing was safe.

Pansy glared at him. “Don’t give me ‘nothing’ Draco Lucius, or I swear I’ll—”

“Yes, yes Pansy. You’ll cut my balls off.” He sighed distractedly, as he started to flush all over.

Was it hot in here?

She nodded. “Yes. And don’t you forget it.” she threatened. “So, tell me what on earth is going on. Is it Potter?” she asked and he felt a bout of annoyance.

Why was it always Potter? Why did everyone always assume that it was Potter? It infuriated him.

Maybe, just _maybe_ , it was the fact that a crazed madman wanted to kill his family and himself if he failed to kill the Headmaster, ruining the lights fighting chances in the process, perhaps aiding the death of his boyfriend.

But yes, his problems consisted of Potter and Potter only.

Draco shook his head violently. “No, no. Not Potter.” He sputtered.

Pansy eyed him sceptically. “Are you sure?” she questioned. “Because it always has something to do with Potter.” She said, and that was true in a sense.

Technically Potter did come into the problem, but he was far from the most pressing matter.

Draco chuckled. “That may be true for eighty-seven percent of the time. But it’s not right now.” he stated. “Well, not really.” He admitted.

“Then what’s going on?” she pushed.

Draco huffed, knowing he was fighting a loosing battle. “It’s my father.” he told her, lowering his voice slightly, fearful of who may be listening.

The castle had ears, he was certain of it.

“Lucius?” Pansy shrieked, and Draco felt a snarky comment coming on.

“No, my other father, Constantinople.” He deadpanned and she glared. “Yes, of course, it’s bloody Lucius.” he quipped, because how could one be so _blonde_?

She rolled her eyes. “What does he want?” she questioned and that was the million dollar question.

What could his father, a convicted criminal and somewhat fugitive want with Draco? It must be important if he was risking capture in order to speak to him.

Draco sighed, deciding not to burden Pansy with all that. “I have no fucking idea.” He half-lied, half-admitted.

“Are you in any trouble?” she asked with worry, and he wanted to say no. He so desperately wanted to say no.

He wanted to tell her that he was fine. That everything was going to be okay. But he couldn't, and that completely broke him.

He took a deep breath. “I really don’t know anymore.” he told her dejectedly, for it was the best answer he could give her and himself.

She gave his shoulder a quick squeeze. “Oh darling, what can I do?” she urged, and Draco couldn't let her. He wouldn't let her get caught up in all of this.

He had to protect her. He had to bare the burden of responsiblity by himself.

He shook his head. “Nothing Pans. Please promise me you’ll stay out of it.” he almost begged her, he wouldn't forgive himself if anything were to happen to her.

“But Draco—”

“Please?” he pleaded.

She let out a defeated sigh. “Fine. I trust you. But don’t make me wish that I didn’t” she said simply.

He gulped, because deep, deep down he knew that he couldn’t promise her that.

….

Draco was sitting with Weasley and Hermione in the library, an array of books spread between them.

“Can we go now?” Weasley moaned. They’d only been there for ten minutes.

Hermione glared at him. “Ronald Weasley. It’s only been ten minutes. Do you want to pass your exams or not?” she huffed pointedly, and Draco feared he already knew Weasley's answer to that.

He sighed, bracing himself for the worst.

Weasley shrugged. “I don’t even want to be an auror anymore.” He stated, and _there_ it was.

It had come up a few days ago in potions when Weasley had told him of his questionable plans for the future. The one and only thing Draco had thought upon hearing them was that Hermione was going to fucking kill him.

Draco raised a brow, whilst pulling out his potions essay. “Why ever not?” he asked intently, Hermione had to find out sooner than later.

Weasley gave him a confused look, but Draco nodded urging him to continue. Weasley would thank him in the future.

His eyes gleamed with glee, “I’m going to become a chicken specialist.” He declared proudly, and it was out in the open. The two words Draco had been waiting for.

To be honest, he still had one question. What the _fuck_ was a chicken specialist?

Hermione’s quill dropped onto the table; her mouth slightly agape. “A chicken specialist!” She bellowed, which earnt her a telling off from Madam Pince.

“A chicken specialist.” She hissed, again giving Weasley a murderous glance, and Weasley nodded. “Why would you want to throw your life away like that?” she seethed.

Weasley shot her a crestfallen look. “You know, it wouldn’t _kill_ you to be supportive of my life choices once in a while.” He huffed, and Draco had to admit, they sounded like a bloody married couple.

“I’ll be supportive when you aspire to be something that actually exists.” She snapped.

He growled. “It does bloody well exist. Who do you _think_ makes sure your chicken is of great value?” He answered simply.

Hermione glared. “Oh Ronald. I can’t even with you anymore.” She bit out, giving him a look that deemed him a helpless child.

Weasley turned towards him, and Draco froze. No, no, no! He _did not_ want to be brought into their argument. Despite to what many may think, he _did not_ have a death wish.

“Well, what do you think Malfoy?” Weasley asked gruffly.

Draco blinked. He was actually pretty content to watch their petty argument. It served for some great entertainment.

He sighed. “Well, I think it’s a commendable idea.” He answered and Hermione gave him an angry look.

“Thanks, mate.” Weasley smiled.

Draco nodded. “I think it’s very brave.” He carried on, a chirper hint dusting his tone.

Weasley shot him a confused look. “Why do you say that?” he questioned sceptically.

He smiled, this was going to be fun. “Well, I could never do it. Mercilessly murder those chickens. Spend years upon years with mud up to my eyeballs. Don’t even get me started on the sweaty factories, the time and effort just to check one chicken. And all for minimal pay.” Draco droned; he was lying through his pert arse of course. 

Draco carried on. “It’s just I couldn’t do it, is all. I’d much prefer a cushy Auror job. Hanging by the office with an unlimited coffee and chicken supply. And spending my days fighting on the field, being commended as a hero.” He smirked. “Sounds like a pretty good deal to me. But what do I know?” he finished, smirking triumohantly from ear to ear.

Weasley’s face paled, and Hermione sent him a grateful look.

“You know what?” Weasley choked out. “I may rethink that whole auror thing after all.” he declared and Hermione smiled.

“That sounds like a very wise idea.” She started. “Why don’t you start with your potions homework? It’s one of the required NEWTs when becoming an auror, anyways.” She suggested and Weasley nodded, before promptly starting his work.

Hermione beamed and mouthed a genuine ‘thank you’ to Draco, who nodded. They didn’t call him the Prince of Slytherin for nothing.

….

Draco was in the Slytherin common room. Alone.

He’d just arrived after another late-night talk with Potter by the lake. It had been nice. Potter had smiled, Draco had smiled. Potter had laughed, Draco had laughed…. And now he sounded like a sap.

Bloody Hufflepuff’s!

Infiltrating Draco's brain, completely breaking his Slytherin side. It was rude, so very _rude_.

“Draco.” A cold voice hissed and he sighed. It was here. The moment he had been dreading for the past day. Better now than never.

Begrudgingly, he walked towards the floo, where his father’s face was impatiently staring back at him. His father looked good considering. Except from a few dark circles that hung from under his eyes, he still looked as proud and healthy as Draco had ever seen him.

Had they started feeding them in Azkaban or something?

“Father.” Draco acknowledged formally.

His father tutted. “Enough with the pleasantries. If the Dark Lord finds out that I’ve been communicating with you, then it’ll be both our heads!” he snapped.

Seriously, his father calls _him_ , and then tells Draco off for a simple cordial greeting. It was typical. So fucking typical of him.

“Then why _are_ you communicating with me?” he huffed.

His father scowled. “And what _exactly_ is that supposed to mean?” he asked in threat, and Draco couldn't bring himself to try and even care.

There was a time where Draco couldn't have dreamed to talk to his father like this. But times had changed. And Draco was done. He was done with his father's crap. He was so, so done!

Draco shrugged. “Nothing apart from the fact that you could’ve save us both a lot of time and effort, if you hadn’t called.” He bit out.

His father’s eyes blazed. “Do you mean to tell me that you didn’t _want_ to receive my call?” he asked carefully, and Draco knew that his father was giving him a chance to redeem himself.

Well, the time for redemption was long gone.

Draco nodded. “Don’t act oblivious, father. It’s not a good look on you.” he told him bravely, and the look on his father's face had made it _all_ worth it.

His father’s nostrils flared. “I will not be treated with such disrespect, boy!” he spat pointedly.

Disrespect? Did his father honestly believe that he deserved to be respected at the moment. He could not for the life of him understand the whole show nothing but respect for your elders thing. If someone continued to show him disrespect, he wouldn't tske it lying down. Not anymore.

He raised a brow. “And I will not be treated like a puppet.” He glared defiantly at his father. “Oops.” He mocked. “It appears I already am.” He snarled, satisfied with his defiance.

He could swear that his father’s face had turned red amongst all the green. “A puppet?” he drawled. “What are you talking about?” he asked him, and Draco didn't see what was so hard to understand.

Draco smiled maliciously. “I mean exactly that. A puppet.” He said. “Would you like me to book you in with an appointment at the healers?” he asked innocently. “It appears that your memory isn’t what it used to be.” He quipped.

“Don’t give me your snark.” His father warned, and Draco was certain that he was finally getting to him.

Draco battered his eyelashes. “My what?” he asked almost innocently.

His father growled. “You know exactly what I mean. I raised you better than this.” He snarled.

Draco felt his body starting to shake with anger. “Raised me better?” he spat. “ _Raised me better_ ” he repeated. “No, you raised me to be another version of yourself.” he finally broke.

He couldn't do this anymore. He just couldn't. The resentment that he felt for his father had become all too much to handle. He had to get it out. He had to let it _all_ out.

His father opened his mouth to speak but he cut him off. “Don’t you dare interrupt me.” He seethed. “You raised me to believe that we were right. That we were the good side. That the Dark Lord was great.” He hissed. “You raised me to become a _fucking_ Death Eater.” He snarled, trembling where he stood.

“Draco Lucius Malfoy—”

“Shut up!” he ordered his stunned father. “Just shut up. This is when you listen.”

Draco took a deep breath. “I used to admire you. I used to think you were wonderful. That you were so powerful. You were my hero.” He admitted solemnly. “I even took this bloody mark for you. Because I believed you. Because I looked up to you. Because I wanted to make you proud.” He choked out.

He wanted his father to understand. He _needed_ him to understand. To acknowledge the part he had to play in Draco's undoing. To accept the dark life he'd plagued his son with.

Was that too much to ask?

He felt his skin start to prickle. “But now I know that you were wrong. That I was wrong. The Dark Lord isn’t strong. He isn’t brave or admirable. He’s weak. He cowers behind his followers. He’s merciless, cruel, and wrong. And I hate it. I hate him.” he declared. 

“I want to be different. I want to be better. I want to become someone that I can love and be proud of. But I can’t” he sighed defeatedly. “I can’t and it’s all your fault. You taught me how to be this. You pressured me into getting me the mark. You filled my head with all these toxic ideas ever since I was a child. I never stood a fucking chance.”

His father, yet again tried to speak. But Draco sent him a glare, quickly silencing him. “You’re the one that got mixed up with the Dark Lord even before I was born. You’re the one that carried on serving you precious Lord after his death. Why?” he shamefully begged him for an answer.

 _Why_? Just fucking why.

“Were we not good enough for you? Didn’t you love us? Why did you put us in harms way? Why did you damage me so? Aren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough _Dad_?” he sobbed, admitting to himself that he was broken. His heart was smashed, cast aside.

And here was the thing about broken hearts. No matter how hard you try, the pieces will never fit the way they did before.

His father blinked a few times, taking in his broken state. “Draco, I really think this outburst is completely unjust and inappropriate.” He spat out and Draco’s blood turned to stone.

“Of course!” he yelled deliriously. “ Of fucking course, you won’t take accountability for your actions.” He swore. “Jokes on me, huh? For clinging onto that little piece of hope that you actually cared about somebody other than yourself. I’m such an idiot.” He snarled.

His father attempted to speak but Draco cut him off. “No! You don’t get to talk anymore. You don’t deserve that privilege.” He growled. “Listen here and listen closely. I _will_ let the Death Eater’s into Hogwarts. I _will_ kill the Headmaster. But it’s not for you. Not anymore.” He said coldly.

He felt like he was losing something important to him. Something he couldn't live without. He reasoned it to be his former self's innocence. The naïve belief and devotion he'd had in his father. The very thinking that had got him hurt.

It had all been a lie. It had all been a fucking lie. He didn't want to believe it, he didn't want to let that part of him go.

But deep down, deep, deep down, he knew that he already had.

Draco carried on. “No, it’s for my mother. My beautiful, loyal, strong mummy. The woman that would do anything to keep me safe.” He declared. “So, I’m doing all of this for her. If it were up to me then I wouldn’t be doing it at all. But it’s not and I have no other choice. I love you father.” He admitted. “I think that I’ll always love you. But I don’t like you. I don’t like you at all.” he spat before ending the call.

Defeated he sunk to his knees feeling his eyes start to sting. _A Malfoy never cries_ …

Well, he didn’t think that he wanted to be a Malfoy anymore. He admitted as he allowed the tears to softly fall.

….

Draco was sitting perched against his favourite tree, his sketchbook in his lap, a pencil in his hand.

He was digesting the talk he’d had with his father several moments earlier. It had hurt him more than he could ever imagine. He thought that at the very least his father would listen to him. That he would try to understand him. He never would have thought that his father would brush off his words in such a way.

He felt cheated. Used. Unloved. He’d done this for his father. Scarred himself for his father. Lost his innocence for his father.

He’d made the biggest mistake of his life for his father. And he didn’t care. His father couldn’t care less. And that hurt. It hurt so damn much.

“Draco?” a voice asked, the person in question sitting down next to him.

He turned to face his boyfriend, because of course it was. Somehow Potter always knew when he was upset, was always there when he needed comfort and a shoulder to cry on. It was more than he deserved. 

“Potter.” Draco replied stoically, before returning back to his drawing.

He sighed, “okay, tell me what’s wrong.” He told him and Draco decided to continue to act completely detached.

Once again, this was something that he needed to bare alone. He couldn't burden anyone else with his problems. Especially Potter.

Draco turned to glare at him. “What makes you think that there’s anything wrong?” he asked sceptically, hoping that Potter would come to his senses and leave Draco be.

He didn't.

“You’re drawing.” Potter answered simply.

That had to be the most _pathetic_ answer that he had ever heard. He's drawing? What the _fuck_ even was that?

Draco flared his nostrils. “oh yes, Draco’s drawing so something has just _got_ to be wrong.” He bit out in frustration, squeezing his pencil tip so hard into his hand that he was sure to draw blood..

Potter held up his arms in defeat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to annoy you.” He said honestly. “It’s just you never draw this early in the morning by yourself, unless there’s something wrong.” He argued.

He felt bad. Here Potter was only trying to offer his assistance and Draco was acting like a brat. Still, he'd rather die than admit defeat.

Draco growled. “So, what if there was? What’s it to you?” he snapped.

“Nothing. Except from the fact that you’re my boyfriend and I care about you. That I want to make you safe and happy. And that it makes me feel genuinely sick, whenever you feel sad… do you want me to continue?” he deadpanned.

Draco turned away from him. “That won’t be necessary.” He muttered trying to not let the guilt he felt consume him.

Potter sighed. “Then please Draco, just tell me what’s wrong.” He begged, and Draco snapped.

It was just all to fucking much. Why was it all to much? So, Potter really wanted to know? Well, Draco would tell him. He'd bare it all!

“You want to know what’s wrong?” he spat and Potter’s eyes widened in concern. “My mother is weak. The man I’ve admired for my entire life is nothing but a deadbeat, idiotic fool who doesn’t care for me.” He bit out. “And let’s not forget the fact that I’m a Death Eater who’s dating Harry Potter, who may I add that I don’t deserve in the slightest.” He growled.

“But nothing, nothing at all.” he finished, panting as he tried to catch his breath.

Potter gave him a pained look before pulling him in for a tight hug. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry that you feel this way and this is happening to you.” He whispered. “If I could take all the pain away, then I would.”

He gave Draco a quick peck on the cheek after checking if anyone was looking. They couldn’t afford to be found out. A rumoured Death Eater and the Boy Who Lived, a couple! That was sure to bring some unwelcomed attention.

Plus, Draco couldn't bare to think what would happened if the Dark Lord ever found out. No, he had to keep it a secret.

Potter carried on. “All I can do is keep you close and carry on showing you how much I care about you. And I care about you so much.” He said earnestly. “I keep on thinking that this is all a dream. That one day I’ll wake up and you’ll be gone. And it scares me. Because your it for me Draco. I’ll never feel this for anyone else but you. You’ve completely ruined me.” He replied, gently.

It was all Draco wanted to hear but all that he knew he couldn't have. He'd denied himself so much. Why this? Why this too?

Draco shook his head. “You don’t mean that.” He attempted, half convinced that Potter was just saying what he knew Draco wanted to hear.

Potter’s eyes turned cold. “Don’t you _ever_ tell me what I feel for you. You’re my rock. You’re the reason I wake up in the mornings. Why I keep on fighting. You saved me Draco.” He whispered before bringing him for a kiss.

Draco melted into the kiss. It was fierce, desperate, and needy. It was tangy and sweet, expressing all that they couldn’t find the words to say. It was passionate but refined. Slow but long.

Several minutes later and Draco broke the kiss, staring into deep green eyes.

“I’m scared.” He admitted mostly to himself.

Potter smiled reassuringly. “So am I.” he stated. “But we’ll get through it.” he assured Draco. “Together.”

“Always.” Draco breathed and he hated the feeling of dread that threatened to ravish his insides.

….

Draco was walking back to the Slytherin dorms, his heart heavy and his shoulder sagged.

All he wanted to do was sit down on his comfy throne and brood.

“Malfoy!” a tight voice called and Draco sighed, couldn’t a man catch a break around here?

He turned around begrudgingly to face the careful eyes of Ernie Macmillan. Did the world hate Draco? What in Merlin’s name did this joker want?

Draco narrowed his eyes at him. “What is it Macmillan? I’m extremely tired and I do not have time for your babbling right now.”

Macmillan shook his head, “don’t worry, I’m not going to babble. Mainly because babbling is bad and makes no sense at all. I mean really? Why do people babble. Are they scared? Are they confused? Do they—”

“Babbling.” Draco growled, cutting him off promptly, he really didn't have time for this.

The last memory he had of Macmillan was him hexing him so hard that he'd blacked out later waking up in the bloody hospital wing. So _excuse him_ , for not particularly wanting to speak to Macmillan as of yet.

Macmillan’s cheeks reddened. “Sorry.” He muttered, as he gave Draco what he deemed a pure excuse of a smile.

Seriously, that thing needed to be locked away in Azkaban or something, he was sure the sheer vulgarity of it was breaking at least some laws.

Draco took a deep tired breath. “So, what is it that you want, Macmillan?” he asked distractedly, looking to see if someone, _anyone_ was making their way down the hall to perhaps help him.

“I wanted to apologise.” He said quietly. Well, _that_ was unexpected!

He needed a moment. Draco blinked a few times. Was his hearing staring to deteriorate? “I’m sorry, what?” he asked in pure disbelief.

Macmillan rubbed his palms on his robes nervously. “I wanted to say that I was sorry.” He repeated a little louder this time.

The nerve on this guy! Draco scoffed. “You mean that your sorry that you and your little buddy Smith pelted me with so many hexes that I ended up with the hospital wing?” he spat.

Macmillan nodded. “Yes, that.” he told him, and Draco wanted to hex him.

Who did he think he was kidding? You don't just apologise to someone months after the incident had occurred. What game was Macmillan playing?

Draco raised a brow. “And it’s taken you several months to grow the balls to tell me just that?” he asked sceptically.

Again, Macmillan nodded.

He let out a dramatic sigh. “Not saying that I forgive you, because forgiveness is something that has to be earned.” He started. “But where is your little leader Smith?” he enquired.

Of course he didn't entirely forgive Macmillan, but he honestly didn't have the energy to think far too much into it.

Macmillan shrugged. “I wouldn’t know. We’re not all that close anymore.” He replied. Draco’s ears perked up because now it was getting interesting.

“What do you mean you’re not close anymore?” he asked, Macmillan's answer being far from what he had expected.

Maybe there was some hope from Macmillan yet?

Macmillan sighed, “exactly that. What you said all those months ago really got to me. I realised that I was following Smith around like a lacky. It was stupid.” He admitted, and now that was a truth that he didn't mind hearing.

Say it louder for the people in the back!

Draco smirked. “I would never call anyone stupid.” He started. “But you’re stupid.” He deadpanned.

He nodded. “I know. I should’ve realised the manipulative bastard that Smith was long ago.” He admitted again and Draco was weirdly proud.

In some twisted way, Macmillan had seemed to have grown up a little. Had become a person that he was proud of. Draco would never admit it to anyone, but he was slightly jealous of that.

In fact, he downright envied Macmillan. He too, wished that he could become the person that he'd always wanted to be, a person that he was proud of.

He decided that he was quite similar to Macmillan in many ways, well apart from the stupidity, but the biggest difference, was Macmillan's drive to change. Draco was still stuck being his father's puppet, too cowardly to stand up for himself.

It was pathetic. He was truly pathetic.

Draco turned his attention back onto the Hufflepuff. “Hmm that is a very accurate observation.” He quipped.

Macmillan turned a deep shade of crimson. “Besides, I’d never be able to score the girl I like with him around.” He stated, and Draco was yet again surprised.

A girl. Why was it _always_ about a girl?

Draco’s eyes widened with intrigue. “And who would this girl be?” he enquired, he had to admit, he did like to indulge in a bit of gossip now and again.

Okay, it was all of the time! But ask him and he'd deny it.

Macmillan shook his head. “I can’t say.” he told him, his eyes glazing over, and Draco just _knew_ that he was thinking about her.

Draco rolled his eyes. “But of course, you can. You owe me. I mean, you did almost kill me at the beginning of term.” He said matter-of-factly. So maybe he was guilt tripping the little bastard. Who cares? Draco almost _died_ because of him.

Macmillan sighed in defeat. “Itslavenderbrown.” He mumbled quietly, _too_ quietly if you asked him.

“Who?” 

He took a shaky breath. “It’s Lavender Brown.” He said more clearly. And wow, for the umpteenth time, Macmillan had surprised him.

He briefly wondered if Draco had misjudged him. He glanced at the red faced guy. So, maybe Macmillan _was_ different to what he'd originally thought. But the Hufflepuff had almost killed him, Draco wasn't going to forget that very easily.

Draco stared at him for several moments in sheer disbelief. “Really?” he questioned, deciding that Lavender would absolutely _love_ to hear this.

Macmillan nodded. “Yeah, I think she’s wonderful. But she’s too focused on Weasley to even notice me.” He mumbled dejectedly.

Weasley? That was hilarious, he had to bite his tongue to stop him from bursting out into a fit of laughter, there and then.

Draco shook his head, edging closer towards the boy. “Let me let you in on a little secret.” He whispered dramatically. “Lavender isn’t as hung up on Weasley as everyone thinks she is.” He stated simply.

Macmillan’s eyes grew wide. “Really?” he asked enthusiastically.

“Oh yes, definitely.” He answered. “They were terribly incompatible.” Mainly because Weasley is so besotted with Hermione to even try to give himself wholly to another girl, but Draco decided to keep that part to himself.

Macmillan nodded. “I knew it. Weasley never treated her right.” he huffed. “It was as if he was always thinking about somebody else.” That would be Hermione…

Draco looked at him with disinterest, he was getting bored now. “Yes, yes Weasley was incapable of maintaining a stable relationship.” He mocked. “You’re missing the fact here.” Macmillan gave him a confused look.

Draco sighed; must he do _everything_ himself? “Lavender is single and no longer emotionally attached to Weasley. Go get her.” he urged him, and Draco reckoned that he would make a phenominal coach or something.

Let's be honest, Draco would be fantastic at anything he decided to do. Well... except asassinating his Headmaster. It seemed that Draco was bollocks at that.

It was if it all had finally clicked in Macmillan’s obscenely small head. “You’re right I think I will.” He declared with determination.

“Very good, very good. Now if you don’t mind I’m tired and would like to put my feet up.” He said quickly before sidestepping Macmillan and entering the Slytherin common room.

….

“Uhm Mr Malfoy, sir.” A shy voice asked and Draco groaned. You had _got_ to be fucking kidding him.

Draco peered down at the small boy; he couldn’t have been older than twelve. He wondered what in Merlin's name was up with mini twelve year olds wanting his attention _all_ of the damn time.

Was he _that_ irresistible?

He tutted. “What is it?” he asked impatiently, he was a busy person, he had places to go, people to see, beds to sleep in.

The boy turned a shade of Weasley red. “I was just wondering if I could talk to you about something?” he stuttered out and Draco realised that the boy was scared of Draco.

Scared of him! Well, he had to admit, that brought a smile to his face. He quite liked the idea of being intimidating.

Draco sighed. “I suppose I could spare a few moments of my time.” He snapped because he wasn’t heartless. He was just tired. Very, very tired.

His features lit up. “Oh, thank you, Mr Malfoy, sir.” He said enthusiastically.

“Yes, yes I’m extremely generous. Now please do get on with it. I’m a very busy man.” He said quickly, feeling as if he'd drop dead if he didn't sleep soon.

The boy nodded. “You’re friends with Kat, right?” he asked hesitantly.

Draco’s eyes turned cold at the mention of her name. “What about her?” he questioned sceptically. “Is she in any trouble?”

The boy frantically shook his head. “No, she’s okay.” He assured him, “well I think that she’s okay, do you think anything’s happened to her?” he cried out.

Wow, this boy was really pushing his buttons. And what was with his _absurdly_ weird fixation on Kat. Was he her friend or something?

“Just get to the damn point.” Draco spat.

The boy let out a scared yelp, rubbing his palms nervously together. “It’s… just well I kind of, just a little bit, think that Kat’s…. really pretty.” He choked out and Draco blinked feeling confused.

“You think that Kat’s pretty?” he questioned giving the boy a death glare.

Why did he think that Kat was pretty? He had no right to think that she was pretty. Draco needed to poke his eyes out or something, because this just wouldn't do.

In fact he had to poke the eyes out of every single straight man in this school. Actually, screw the school, he was poking the whole world's eyes out. 

He nodded. “Yes, very much so. In fact, I think that she’s beautiful.” he said in awe, the same wistful look dancing in his eyes that he'd seen on Macmillan just moments before.

Oh no... he knew that look. He knew it _all_ too well.

Well, that was all going to change. Draco suddenly felt a protective urge wash over him, “why are you telling me this?” he snapped out.

The boy froze. “Well, erm, I wanted, I mean if it wasn’t any inconvenience to get your blessing.” He spat out frantically.

His blessing? Who the fuck did he think Draco was? Kat's father. Last time he checked, Draco was only five around the time that Kat was born. So he had the smallest and he meant smallest huch that he wasn't biologically related to Kat in that way.

He glared at the boy, “And just what is your name?” he enquired, shooting him a sharp look.

“Morsen. Ricky Morsen.” He replied and Draco nodded in approval, what a fine way to introduce ones name.

Then again, what kind of name was Ricky. It sounded so mundane. So normal. And Kat was anything but normal. She deserved someone that was on her level.

He reasoned that no one would ever live up to Kat's level. Oh well, what a shame. Kat was going to be single forever. How very, very sad.

Draco eyed him sceptically. “And what exactly are your intentions with Kat, Ricky?” he snarled as if the name was distasteful.

Ricky started to shake. “I just want to tell her that I think she’s beautiful. A girl that pretty should know.” He stated sweetly.

“And you don’t want to do any grown up things with her?” he prodded.

Ricky shrugged. “Well, I would like to take her on a picnic, and maybe buy her a box of those chocolates she liked so much.” He answered innocently.

Damn it! This guy didn’t seem like a threat at all. In fact, he seemed like the perfect candidate for Kat’s heart. 

Draco was feeling very emotional. He didn’t want to let Kat venture into the world alone. She was still too young. Too innocent. She couldn’t be corrupted. That’s it, he’d tell Ricky no. He could do that.

“I’m sorry but—” He glanced into big, hopeful eyes and cursed the day that he was born. “But I think Kat would much more enjoy a walk around the castle grounds than a picnic. She likes to move around.” He finished sadly.

He squealed in delight, “So you’re giving me your blessing?” he asked hopefully.

Did he want to give his blessing? No, not really. Did he want to hex the small boy into next year? Definitely. Was Draco going to act like a mature adult? Sadly.

Draco nodded. “Yes, it appears that I am.” He answered solemnly, feeling a void in the pits of his stomach.

Is this how it felt to let your child roam free in the wild? This was horrible. Why did people do this?

“Oh, thank you, thank you Mr Malfoy, sir.” He said appreciatively. 

He raised up a hand in protest. “Draco.” He stated. “You can call me Draco.” He offered. Might as well get to know his future son-in-law.

Ricky nodded. “Thank you, Draco.” he told him earnestly, and Draco couldn't help but like the small human.

Draco’s eye’s narrowed at the small boy. “Don’t betray my trust.” He warned. “If you harm one hair on her perfect little head, then I’ll hex you so hard you’ll lose your ability to breathe.” He threated, proud of his handywork.

Ricky cowered in fear. “Does that mean you’ll…”

Draco raised a brow. “I don’t know Ricky, does it?” he growled.

He shook his head. “Don’t worry Draco, I’ll never do anything to hurt her. I love her.” he chirped before walking away, a spring in his step.

 _He what_?!

“Daddy Draco.” Pansy purred. “I like it.” she grinned at him mischievously.

But of course they were listening. For some reason his two best friends appeared to be absolutely obsessed with him. He understood why. Draco was pretty interesting. But alas, that didn't make the whole thing any less alarming.

Draco glared at her. “And I like it when you’re quiet.” He deadpanned. Do you know what Draco wanted? Sleep.

And what was the _one_ thing that he wasn't getting. Oh yes. Sleep!

Blaise tutted. “Now, now Draco. Let’s not get stroppy.” and Draco _really_ didn't have the energy for any of his witty remarks.

Not today.

“I’m not being stroppy.” He dropped his arms to the sides of his body dramatically.

Pansy eyed him sceptically. “Really? Because you’re acting like a child. This is certainly not Daddy behaviour.” She teased, whilst putting one of her fat hands onto his shoulder.

He _did not_ appreciate this invasion of privacy, he thought as he pushed her arm off. Especially when he was being attacked by who he thought were his best friends.

Draco growled. “Ha bloody ha very funny.” He quipped, but it wasn't funny. No, it wasn't funny at all

Pansy shrugged. “Then again… are you the daddy?” she started, and Blaise's eyes gleamed with evil.

“Or is it Potter?” Blaise finished for her, and they both exploded into laughter.

Draco flipped them off. “That is none of your business.” He informed them whilst mentally reminding himself to ask Potter about a potential Daddy kink.

He sighed. “Can you believe that the little bugger is in love with Kat?” he asked, still not being able to get his mind round it.

 _Twelve_! The kid was twelve and he was already in love, he must be doing something right.

Pansy shook her head. “I don’t blame him the girl is stunning. She’d look even better if I gave her that makeover I told you about.” She asked hopefully, giving him a pointed look.

Over his dead body! Pansy plus makeup equalled death. It was a known fact.

Draco glared at her. “I said no before and I’m saying no now. In fact, I’ll continue to say no till the end of time.” He answered simply, and her face fell.

“Anyways,” Blaise perked up. “Why ruin a little girl with your absmayl makeup skills.” He remarked. “You look hideous, darling.” He mocked. Sadly, Draco couldn't help but agree.

Not that he'd ever admit that out loud. No, unlike Blaise, he valued his life.

Pansy looked as if she were about to kill him. “I’ll show you hideous.” She threatened, pulling her wand out and advancing onto him.

Blaise laughed. “I’m shaking in my designer shoes.” He teased, faking terror.

Draco coughed loudly. “You both need to grow the hell up.” He stated matter-of-factly. 

Oh god. He sounded exactly like his father. What was be becoming? He didn't even know who he was anymore.

She scoffed. “Don’t make me laugh Draco. You’re the biggest child here and you know it.” she said. Well, that just had to be the biggest lie that she'd ever told.

Draco shook his head. “I am not!” he wailed crossing his arms tightly.

He paused, taking in his gesture, before abruptly pinning his arms back down to his sides. Damn it!

Pansy raised a triumphant brow. “Shut up.” He mumbled.

Blaise chuckled. “Anyways, I should tell you that Kat’s been waiting for you outside the common room for the past several minutes.” He smirked deviously.

“You idiot! Why didn’t you tell me.” He bit out.

Blaise shrugged. “You never asked.” He said simply and Draco glared at him before stomping off.

….

“There you are!” Kat sighed out as soon as Draco got outside. “I thought that you’d never come out.” she walked up to him quickly, a giant smile lighting up her entire face.

Draco gave her an apologetic look. “Sorry, Blaise conveniently forgot to tell me that you were waiting out here.” He said, internally think of all the ways that Blaise could 'accidently' trip down the stairs.

She shrugged. “That doesn’t matter anyways.” She brushed him off with a wave of her hand.

That was it. That was one of the things he loved about most about her. Forgiveness. Her ability to forgive, and not just for her own self gain. No, she genuinely forgave. Honestly, she was already a better person then Draco could ever hope to be. 

“So, what did you need me for?” he asked her.

She smiled. “I’ve got the list you asked us for.” She waved a sheet of paper in front of him triumphantly, and his heart started to beat up.

That small piece of paper meant so much. It symbolised and determined so many things. It was the only thing that could perhaps save them all. It made it all _real_.

He beamed at her. “Thank you, you’re amazing.” He said genuinely, staring to feel himself tire even more.

She shook her head. “Don’t thank me, it was a team effort.” Draco chuckled she was such a Hufflepuff. “Anyhow, I best be getting back now, it’s almost curfew.” she told him and he agreed, it was getting pretty late. The last thing he wanted as for her to get in trouble because of him.

Draco nodded and gave her a quick hug “See you tomorrow.” He whispered and she sent him a friendly wave.

When she was almost that the end of the corridor he shouted, “By the way who’s Ricky?” she blushed quickly hurrying out of sight and Draco laughed. Victory was his!

He took a deep breath looking at the list. He felt a huge weight fall from his shoulders. He may not be able to stop the Death Eater take over, but he could help in this small way. He would do whatever he had to, in order to make sure that the students at risk remained safe.

He started to formulate his plan quickly in his head. He needed to find eighteen objects, preferably disposable ones. And he needed to find them quickly.

Draco sighed; he had work to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So Draco interacted with Lucius this chapter. I really wanted to explore their relationship. Any ideas on what Draco's plan could be? A teaser for next chapter: IT. ALL. KICKS. OFF!


	9. Chapter Nine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm Sorry.

_**8:25a.m** _

Draco couldn’t breathe.

It was all too much. Far, far too much. Draco felt his throat close up, he was gasping for breath. Grabbing for life.

It was time. 

The dreaded day had come. He didn’t want to do it. It was the last thing that he wanted to do. But he had to. He had no choice.

Draco was currently sobbing on his bed, an abundance of Portkeys spawled beneath him. He hadn’t managed to give them to the Muggleborn’s yet and he was running out of time. 

He couldn’t do this. He couldn’t do this alone.

It was over. Ruined. He was ruined.

“Draco we’re going to be late for breakfast.” Pansy yelled as she burst into the room, and Draco shielded his face from her.

He was hideous.

She came to an abrupt stop once she lay eyes on him, “Oh…Draco.” She murmured pulling him into a tight squeeze. He let himself fall into her grasp, wallowing in his own self pity.

Why? Just why? Why had it all come down to this? Why did he have to do this? He'd been naïve. He'd been so naïve, going through the year as close to normal as he'd possibly could. He'd been foolish. So. so foolish.

Because by doing that. By acting as if everything was going to be okay, he'd given himself hope. He'd become ignorant to the consequences of his actions, he'd been made vulnerable. And that was dangerous.

 _Hope_ was dangerous.

He sobbed louder onto her shoulder. “It’s okay, it’s okay.” She cooed, pulling him even closer. “Everything’s going to be fine. I’m here, I’m here.” She reassured, but he knew it couldn't be. It couldn't be.

Not like this. Not anymore.

Draco frantically shook his head, “no, no, it won’t be. It can’t be.” He cried out.

She pulled away from him, looking him straight in the eye. “It _will_ be.” She told him. “I’ll make sure of it.” she declared. “I promise.” she breathed out and Draco just couldn't believe her.

So many had come and gone making promises that had always been broken.

His mother had promised to strong, his father had promised to protect him, the Dark Lord had promised to be right..

They had all lied, they had all been wrong. And Draco had been the one to get hurt. He'd been the one who's trust had shattered, leaving him with virtually nothing.

So he wanted to believe her, he so desperately wanted to believe her. But he couldn't.

“No, no, no. You don’t understand. I’ve done something bad. I’m going to do something bad.” He choked out, gasping deeply for air.

Pansy raised a confused brow, “What are you talking about?” she asked her voice laced in concern, and he realised that he couldn't lie to her.

She couldn't help him. But he was so tired off the lying, of the deceit, he had to tell someone. He had to _show_ someone.

He sniffled, taking a deep breath before pulling up his sleeve. Pansy gasped when she saw the mark, her eyes welling with tears.

“Draco…no. When? How? Why?” she begged him for an answer, and he realised it was time. It was time to tell the truth. 

So, he told her. He told her _everything_.

She looked up at him with pleading eyes once he had finished. “Does Potter know?” she asked hesitantly.

He sighed. “He knows about the mark. But not about my task, not about what I’m going to do.” He told her.

Against his better judgment, he absently wondered what Potter would do if he found out what Draco had planned. _When_ he would find out. The thought of it, well... it hurt him more than one could possibly imagine.

“Are you going to tell him?” she pushed, and he couldn't imagine anything worse.

Draco’s eyes widened, “No!” he yelled. “He can’t find out. Not now. Not yet. I have a plan.” he told her somewhat confidently, because he did, have a plan that is.

One that if executed correctly would potentially aid the wizarding world. Successful or not, his plan only meant heartbreak for Draco.

It didn't matter all that much, he bore it so they didn't have to.

Pansy gave him a conflicted look and he took a deep breath, “You must hate me.” He said sadly. Of course she would, he would hate himself.

He _did_ hate himself.

She shook her head violently. “Of course, I don’t hate you.” She reassured him. “I love you. You’re my best friend.” She declared fiercely and Draco couldn't understand her.

“But I’m disgusting.” He objected.

She shifted closer to him, entwining her hand with his. “No, you’re not.” She said defiantly. “You’re the strongest person that I know.” she told him, and no, no, NO! That wasn't right. That wasn't what she was meant to say.

He attempted to make her see reason. “But the Muggleborn’s.” he started. “I can’t help them. I’ve tried, but I can’t deliver the portkey’s there’s not enough time.” He sniffed, how low his odds were finally sinking in.

“I’ll help, and I bet if we tell Blaise, he’ll help as well.” she promised him, and it were if everything changed.

That made sense. With their help, there was a greater possibility of success. He had a chance. He really had a chance.

He looked up at her with big, hopeful eyes. “Do you really think that Blaise will help?” he asked almost shyly.

She nodded. “I’m certain of it. It’s us three for life.” She gave him a smile.

“Always.” He breathed out.

….

_**9:20a.m** _

“Just stay away from me. You’re crazy.” The second-year boy spat.

Great, just great. He knew that there was a strong possibility of this happening. After all, what kid was going to believe that big, bad Death Eaters were after them. Especially when it was coming from the son of a renowned Death Eater. 

Truthfully, he wouldn't believe himself either.

Draco took a calm breath. “I’m not crazy, Nathan.” He attempted, to reason with the quivering boy.

He's not crazy! Was he actually that idiotic? That's exactly what a crazy person would say. He decided that wasn't far from the truth either. He _definitely_ looked like a crazy person.

Nathan narrowed his eyes at him. “Really? Because that is exactly what a crazy person would say.” He declared, and yes it was decided, he was officially a crazy person.

Father would be so proud. Draco was following in his footsteps.

Draco sighed; this wasn’t working. “Do you really think that I’d waste my time lying about this?” he tired a different approach, he wasn't a Slytherin for nothing.

He shrugged. “I don’t know you, so I’m not sure.” he said simply.

Fair play, it was perhaps a tad idiotic to trust a stranger. But Draco wasn't any old stranger, no he was the Prince of Slytherin.

“Well, let me tell you. I’d never go out of my way to tell you something like this if I were lying. It just isn’t proper.” He wrinkled his nose as if tasting something unsavory. 

He eyed him sceptically. “So, let’s say that I hypothetically believed you, why should I trust you?” he questioned, and Draco could tell the moment that he new that he had Nathan on side.

It was quite easy to spot in all fairness. The boy's lips had curled at the words 'hypothetically', and let's be real, no one smiled at a stranger they did not like or somewhat trust.

That would be foolish. And he'd bet on his last galleon that Nathan was anything but foolish

Draco sighed, before pulling up his sleeve, not knowing if he’d regret his action. Nathan screamed when he saw the mark, trying to pull away, Draco’s earlier sticking charm holding him firmly in place.

“You’re a Death Eater!” he shrieked, his eyes wide in terror. It was a reaction that Draco had expected so was prepared for.

He kept up his calm façade, showing fear at this point would be disastrous.

So, he simply nodded. “Yes.” He answered solemnly. “Now that we’ve gotten that out of the way.” He carried on. “Now you can see that I’m not playing games with you?" he told him seriously.

“But how do you expect me to trust a Death Eater?” he spat and Draco’s heart clenched.

There was only one thing left to do.

Lie.

Or as Draco liked to call it, manipulating the truth.

He coughed a low cough, “I’m not a proper Death Eater.” He lied and Nathan perked up with interest. “I’m a spy, and I know on good authority that Death Eater’s are going to storm Hogwarts tonight, and your kind will be the first to go.” he said, and found comfort in the fact that his words did have an essence of truth to them.

Nathan’s eyes widened with fear. “How do I know that you’re not lying?” he questioned.

Draco shrugged. “You don’t.” he said simply. “But even if I _was_ lying about the portkey, I’m not lying about the Death Eater’s. You’d be dead either way.” he stated firmly, reasoning that part was entirely true.

The Muggleborn's would be the first to go. They were the kind that the Dark Lord saw at the bottom of the social ladder. It didn't matter whether you were innocent or just merely a child. Death Eater's didn't discriminate.

Hell, war didn't discriminate. Everyone was a target.

He looked as though he might have been considering, so Draco carried on. “Why don’t you just take your chances?” he proposed fairly.

After several seconds, the boy nodded. “Okay, I _trust_ you.” He declared with a shaky breath. “I’ll take the portkey.” He assured him.

It worked! It had actually worked. He felt relief rush through him knowing that one more innocent world be safe.

Draco shot him a rare smile before handing him the portkey. “Trust me.” He whispered as the boy disappeared as if he’d never been there to begin with.

Draco took a deep breath, one down, seventeen to go.

….

_**11:35a.m** _

Draco was on his way to track his next Muggleborn, when he heard a cry come from a hidden alcove.

He sighed; he didn’t have time for this. He carried on walking.

Another cry erupted, louder and more pained this time. He shivered remembering the first time this had happened and he’d come face to face with a crying Kat. Stopping, he thought, had been one of the best decisions of his life.

Despite his better judgement he made his way towards the alcove and was shocked to find a crying Hermione. It unsettled him deeply, for as long as he'd known her, Hermione had always been so brave and strong.

And to see her like this, with tears running down her cheeks, well, it was something he never wanted to see again.

He gasped. “Hermione?” he whispered in disbelief, edging closer towards the crying girl.

She stared at him; her eyes wide with embarrassment. “Draco.” He sniffed. “I didn’t mean for you to see me like this. I didn’t mean for anyone to see me like this.” she told him and Draco vowed not to embarass nor upset her any more than she already was.

So, he sat down next to her, with the intent on bringing a smile to her face. “What ever is the matter?” he asked, his voice laced with concern.

She sighed. “It’s Ron.” She mumbled, and Draco should have known.

When did Weasley not do something that was both idiotic and ignorant? In fact, he had a sneaky suspicion about what this all could be about.

Actually, he most definitely _knew_ what this was all about.

“What has he done now?” he questioned.

Hermione shook her head. “It’s just, that he must be blind or downright stupid.” She started and he looked up at her confused. “I try, I try so hard. And he doesn’t see it, he just doesn’t see it.” she mumbled dejectedly.

Yes, that sounded like Weasley. Too bloody stupid to see what's right in front of him. Except if it was chicken. Weasley _always_ saw chicken.

He raised a sharp brow. “See what?” he asked, both fearful and happy that he knew the answer.

She took a deep breath. “How I feel about him.” she admitted quietly. And there it was!

The confession that he had been waiting for. It was obvious that this girl had been head over heels for Weasley since their fourth year, maybe even before that. She looked at him the exact same way that he looked at Potter.

She looked at Weasley as if he was all she'd ever dreamed of. All that she'd ever wanted. All that she'd ever _needed_.

He understood her. He understood her so much that it physically hurt.

Draco hid a smile. “And how _do_ you feel about him?” he enquired genuinely, wanting to hear her say it herself.

Her features lit up slightly, as she took a wistful breath. “Like he’s everything.” She said exasperatedly. “He’s funny. He’s thoughtful. He doesn’t treat me like I’m some freak, or that I’m any different to anybody else. He laughs whenever I crack a rare joke. He comforts me when I’m sad.” She sighed. “I think I might love him.” she admitted.

Draco’s eyes widened in surprise because he was not expecting _that_! 

Okay, maybe he was expecting that in the sense that he already knew. But he hadn't by no means expected her to admit it so quickly. She was fearless.

She blushed. “I’m being stupid, aren’t I?” he questioned without a hint of confidence.

He shook his head. “Not at all. Is it surprising? Yes. Stupid? No chance in hell.” He reassured her.

Love wasn't stupid. Dangerous, yes. But stupid... something so beautiful couldn't be anything more than perfect. Yes it was terrifying, living in constant fear of falling with no one there to catch you. But in all honsety at one point of one's life it was a fall that were all going to have to take.

After all, it was better to have loved and lost, than to never have loved at all.

She threw her hands to her lap dramatically. “It just feels so good to get it all out.” She breathed with relief. “I mean does he annoy me? Yes. Do I think that he should care more about his studies? Definitely. Do I sometimes want to hex him silly? Absolutely.” She declared and Draco had to admit that he was a little bit scared.

She gazed at him longingly. “But would I ever change him? Never.” She finished and there was no doubt in Draco's mind that this was a girl in love.

Draco gave her a weak smile. “That is freakishly adorable.” He informed her. “You should tell him.” he decided.

If she was going to take the leap then that was okay, he was certain that he'd be there to catch her if she ever fell.

“No, I could never do that?” she said sadly and Draco wanted to shake some sense into her.

Where was the brave, beautiful girl from just a minute ago? Where had she gone?

He glared at her. “And why the hell not?” he prodded.

She fixed her gaze onto her lap. “Because he doesn’t like me like that.” She mumbled.

Draco couldn’t help it.

He started to chuckle. Then he started to laugh, loud and vibrant. Then finally, he started to wheeze. “I’m sorry—” he started through puffs of laughter.

Hermione put her hands on her hips. “What’s so funny?” she snapped dangerously.

Draco carried on laughing. “I’m sorry, it’s just—” he tried again but was deeply unsuccessful.

Growling at him she snarled out. “If you don’t stop this instant Draco Malfoy, I swear you’ll be the one explaining to Harry why you no longer have balls.” She spat out, and Draco promptly shut up.

She smiled, a questionable glint in her eye and Draco was scared. “That’s better.” She preened, and he concluded that she was not a girl to be messed with.

Draco nodded shakily. “Anyways.” He choked out. “For having such an amazing brain, you’re actually pretty stupid.” He got out and she glared at him. “Not the face. Not the face.” He screamed.

Her nostrils flared. “And _why_ am I stupid?” she snarled.

He sighed. “Weasley is absolutely besotted with you.” He assured her. “He doesn’t look at anyone but you. He doesn’t even speak about anyone but you. Hell, he even does his homework when you ask him to.” He declared, spitting out the hard facts. “If that isn’t love, then I don’t know what the fuck is.” He mused.

She blushed. “Do you really think so?” she asked hopefully.

He smiled. “I know so.” He promised.

A thoughtful look passed her face as she gave him a goofy grin. “What about you?” she prodded.

Oh no, Draco knew that look, it was here 'So, how are things with Potter and yourself' that he most definitely did not want to answer.

Draco did a double take. “What about me?” he asked sceptically.

Hermione sighed. “You and Harry. Shouldn’t you already know what love is since your already so deeply acquainted with it?” she questioned knowingly.

Love. Was he in love? He had no idea. He didn't know what love felt like.

But what he did know, what he so desperately knew was that Potter made him happy. Whenever he smile, whenever he spoke, every glance, every touch, Draco found himself being submerged deeper into everything that was Potter.

It was an unusual romance, one that no one had seen coming, One that he hadn't even seen coming. But now that he had it, now that it existed, he found himself never wanting to let it go.

So, maybe it was true, maybe it all made perfect sense.

Perhaps you really did fall in love with the most unexpected people at the most unexpected time.

“We haven’t said those words yet.” He said simply, in an attempt to stop from answering a question which answer he wasn't one hundred percent sure of yet.

Her eyes widened. “You haven’t?” she gasped. “But you’ve been in love since Christmas!” she declared.

They had? He was the one that was actually in the relationship, he surely would've noticed if that were the case, right?

“No, we haven’t.” he mumbled.

She laughed. “Yeah, and Ron’s going to become a chicken specialist.” She bit out sarcastically.

“That could still happen.” Draco defended.

Mark his words. Weasley was going to become a chicken specialist in the future. There was no other alternative.

“Over my dead body.” She spat out, before turning her attention back to the matter at hand. “Face it you and Harry are head over heels in love with each other, nothing can change my mind.” She said stubbornly.

He opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off by Hermione as she stood up. “Just think about it.” she smiled before she was gone in a flare of robes.

Draco didn’t want to think about it. Because deep down he knew that it was true, and if it were, then this was going to become a lot harder than he knew it would be.

….

_**12:19p.m** _

“Are you having a laugh, Malfoy?” Annie Warbeck bit out.

“Does he _look_ like he’s fucking joking?” Pansy snarled at her.

Blaise tutted. “Now, now Pansy. No need to be so dramatic, Annie here is obviously extremely scared.” He said patronisingly.

Draco glared at him. “Shut up Blaise.” He hissed.

He laughed. “Hush Draco. Instead of telling me to ‘shut up’ why don’t you pay more attention to getting that stick out of your arse.” 

“And why don’t _you_ work killing that pimple, because sweetie, it’s not a great look.” Pansy snapped and Blaise glared.

“You’re mad!” Annie spat out. “You’re all fucking mad.” She swore.

Honestly, Draco secretly agreed with her. What in Merlin's name had convinced him to let his best friends on his little task. They were scaring the victims for fuck sake!

Draco glared at her. “Yes, we’re all absolutely bonkers, so why don’t you save yourself from having to endure our madness for any longer and take the bloody portkey.” He suggested with brute force.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “Nice try.” She started. “What I’d like to do is leave. So, if you excuse me.” She tried to move but Blaise shot a sticking charm at her.

This one was clever, but not clever enough. That was questionable actually considering she was a Ravenclaw. Didn't they have to solve riddles to gain access into their common room or something?

He'd tell you one thing, he did not envy any of them. He could barely remember the Slytherin password most of the time.

His friend shook his head. “You’re not going anywhere.” He said and she stared at him fearfully.

“Blaise, stop scaring the Muggleborn!” Draco ordered and he chuckled.

Draco reverted his attention back onto the quivering girl. “I know we sound like complete idiots, but you have to trust us.” He pleaded.

She shrugged. “Why should I trust you?” she questioned sceptically.

Damn it! Why did it all come down to trust? Couldn't everyone in Hogwarts just believe others blindly for a few days and save Draco the hassle. He was tired.

He sighed. “Who says you can trust anyone?” he started, taking a different approach for the umpteenth time today. “This is war. How do you know that the good isn’t the bad and the bad isn’t the good?” he prodded and she gasped.

A gasp! That was a good sign. He took this as confirmation to carry on. “How do you truly know what good and bad really is. What if there’s no good or bad? What if there’s only grey?” he asked.

She shook her head. “but Harry Potter—” she started and Draco cut her off.

“I hope for all our sakes that Potter is who he says he is, but how do we really know?” he enquired. He was lying, of course, he had the upmost confidence in Potter. He trusted Potter.

Annie sighed and Draco let out a triumphant grin. “Fine.” She huffed. “Hand me the stupid thing.” She held out her hand.

Draco pulled out the rusty tin can, before handing it to her as she disappeared in a whirl of green light.

“Nicely done.” Blaise smirked at him. “Nice to know that you’re still a sly Slytherin and Potter’s Gryffindor hasn’t rubbed off on you.” he told him proudly.

Pansy shook her head in amusement. “He’s dating Harry Potter, best friends with Hufflepuff’s, whilst impulsively going around handing Muggleborn’s portkey’s in order to save their lives.” She smiled. “I think Potter’s Gryffindor had more than rubbed off on him.” she declared.

Draco couldn’t say anything to that. Maybe he was a little bit of a secret Gryffindor and he couldn’t complain.

….

_**13:42p.m** _

Draco was lying on his bed. He was exhausted. 

He had just finished handing out all of the portkey’s. All but _two_.

His eyes were closed and he was just about to fall asleep when something shook him violently.

“ARRRGHHHH!” Draco screamed and scrambled to the back of his bed.

Deep laughter filled the room as Potter tore off his invisibility cloak. He narrowed his eyes at him. “I hate it when you do that.” He spat and Potter.

Potter shrugged. “Worth it.” he declared proudly.

Draco raised a brow, “will it be worth it when I die from a fucking heart attack?” he snarled.

“You’re so dramatic.” He chuckled before pulling Draco into a deep kiss.

It was raw, passionate, and full of longing. Draco sighed, pulling Potter closer. He needed this. Needed _him_. Just one last time.

While they snogged, they both kicked their shoes of Draco pulling Potter closer and closer onto the bed. Potter’s feet hit the bottom of the bed, Draco withering beneath him.

Potter kissed the line of his jaw, in long haughty sucks, his stubble contradicting with the softness of his mouth. Potter tore off his robe, slipping a hand underneath his shirt, his fingers rough and possessive as they slide over his skin, Potter latches his mouth back onto Draco’s, their tongues colliding in a whirl of heat, feverish and strong, them both battling for dominance.

Draco arched against him. The way Potter looked at him, the way his hands move demandingly over his skin, drawing him closer. It’s perfect. His body is hard and real, thrumming with heat and desire. His kisses turn more passionate, as he turns them over, gripping Draco’s arse and pulling him onto his lap. 

“You’re so beautiful.” Potter hums. His mouth sucking onto his neck, his teeth dragging over his sensitive skin. Draco mans, grabbing a fistful of his thick hair, tugging hard.

He can feel his erection, hot and hard just begging to be set free. He squirms in his lap, pressing against his length again and again, Potter’s eyes becoming glassy with desire. He wants him. He only wants him.

His thumb traces a long line along his jaw, and Draco shivers. Potter pushes him against the pillows and kisses him again, and Draco aches for him. “I’ll make it good. I always make it good.” Potter whispers reassuringly.

Potter tore off his shirt, tweaking on one of Draco’s nipples which earns him a loud moan full of desperate need. “I know just how sensitive you nipples are.”

Draco glared at him. “That’s a whole load of bollocks!” and Potter chuckles and tweaks his nipples once more and Draco groans, arching up against him. “You were saying…” he raised a brow cockily.

“Just shut the fuck up and fuck me!” Draco ordered.

Potter smirked. “We are a bossy bottom today, aren’t we?” he doesn’t give Draco a chance to reply as he kisses a long trail of kisses down his stomach. Wet, long, and desperate. Draco groans as Potter ripped off his bottoms in one quick tug.

“Don’t worry Draco, I know what you need. I know how you like me to kiss you slowly, over and over until you can no longer bare it.” his hands fly up to the sides of Draco’s head, pulling him in for another filthy kiss. “I know how you like putting my fat dick in your mouth like the cockslut you are.” He squeezed Draco’s balled and he moaned, it catching deep within his throat. “I know it all.”

“Yes. Oh, god. Yes!” Draco screamed.

He sat up, beginning to discard of his robes and shirt, revealing his toned physique and Draco groaned with appreciation. “Fuck, Draco.” He breathes as he goes on to work on his belt buckle. His cock is stands proud and erect. The same thick, pink masterpiece that he’s seen so many times before.

He smirks before grabbing hold of Draco’s feet and placing them onto his shoulders. He groans nudging his way between his legs with hot licks and open-mouthed kisses. Fuck. Potter licks his lips before swallowing him whole. _Holy fuck. Shit. Merlin_! Every nerve in his body is on alert, his body shaking with pure bliss as Potter looks up at him defiantly as he sucks his cock. Long and hard.

His nails scratch at Potter’s back. It’s as if he were an addict and Potter was drug. He was lost. Lost in Potter. He screams as Potter traces a slick wet finger along the crack of his arse, skating over his whole. Draco didn’t even remember Potter muttering the charm.

“Holy fuck,” he gasps out as Potter pushes gently inside, his tongue still lapping the head of Draco’s erection. He pushes in further and Draco clenches around his thick, long finger.

“Fuck, Draco. I need… I need.” He said, sounding completely wrecked. He adds another finger, groaning onto Draco’s cock. Urghhh. It’s perfect. So… so perfect. Sparks ignite within him, clouded by waves of pleasure. He pushes his fingers in and out and Draco starts to shake forcefully.

He hums feverishly sucking up and down his shaft. “I can’t wait. Ahhhh. I need to be in you Now!” he shouted and Draco nodded frantically. His head fell back. He couldn’t think of anything except how good it felt to have Potter touch him that way. So, demanding. Plentiful with want and need.

“Potter…please.” He starts to beg in between sobs. “I want you inside me. I need you to come inside me.” He pleaded. Potter adds a third finger and Draco almost black out. He’s sucking him again and again, and he’s full, so, so full, so good.

“You’re gorgeous.” He breathes and then he’s pushing inside of him, holding his wrists above his head, and pressing them deep into the mattress. Draco struggles as Potter slams into him, relentlessly fierce and sure, giving him just what he needed. What he’s always needed.

Draco screams as Potter pounds into him with fast, long strokes hitting that one spot inside him which brings him painfully close to the edge. He cries out, coming in hard, desperate spurts. “Come for me Potter. I’m gagging for it. Gagging!” he yells as Potter fucks into him chasing his own release before he’s shuddering filling Draco to the brim.

They lie there, catching their breaths for several seconds before Potter gives him a small peck and sits up. “I need to get going.” He states, hastily putting his uniform back on. “I’ll see you later. Get some sleep.” He whispers, pulling Draco into one last expression filled kiss before reluctantly shrugging on his invisibility cloak and sauntering out of the room.

Draco hummed absently, before letting sleep wash over him.

….

_**17:47p.m** _

“You have to do it Draco.” Pansy said soothingly, rubbing circles on his back.

Draco shook his head. “But I don’t want to.” He mumbled deciding that this wasn't up to her or anybody else.

Blaise sighed. “This is not up for discussion.” He said simply.

Not up for discussion Draco’s arsehole. Who did he think he was? Who did they both think they were? Telling Draco what to do. Acting as if he had to follow whatever they decide for him. As if they were his father or something. Well, Draco hated to break it to them, but since he didn’t follow his father’s orders anymore, they could go and suck his left toe.

“I said no.” Draco huffed defiantly, he'd made his decision.

Pansy sniffed. “Well we don’t care what you said. We’re saying that you have to. And that’s that.” she said firmly and he wanted to strangle her.

Draco narrowed his eyes at her. “Well she’s not yours, so you can’t decide what happens to her.” he objected.

“Well, she’s not yours either.” Blaise said pointedly.

That was a lie. She was more Draco's than anyone else could ever hope her to be. He knew he was being selfish, but what was the point of martyring himself off if he wasn't going to receive any gains? 

Draco scoffed. “Yes, she is. She’s _my_ best friend.” He spat possessively deeming them as enemies.

“So are we Draco.” Pansy sobbed out sadly and Draco’s heart clenched.

Was she really trying to guilt trip him?

Couldn't she that he was doing his best? That this was hard. It was so, so hard. He just wanted one thing. One thing that allowed him to breathe, that preventing him from loosing all that he had become. That stopped him from becoming the person that he could potentially be if left to his own devices.

Why couldn't he just be selfish? Just this once?

He shook his head. “It’s not the same. It’s not the same. Can’t you see?” He cried out. “I have to protect her. I have to protect her.” he choked out repeatedly for good measure.

Blaise glared at him. “And you think you’re helping her like this? That you’re not putting her in harm’s way?” he spat out

“I know what I’m doing.” Draco snarled.

Pansy jumped up from the bed so that she was towering over him. “No, you don’t. No, you fucking don’t.” she screamed at him “You can save her, Draco. You can help her. All you have to do is give her the Portkey.” She urged frantically.

Draco felt his eyes well with fresh tears. “But she’ll be safe with me. I know she will be.” He attempted to persuade them, to make them understand.

She shook her head. “Maybe. _Maybe_ she would be safe with you. But she’d be safer at home where the Death Eater’s can’t find her.” she said rationally.

“But—” he choked out a sob.

Blaise took a deep breath. “You know we’re right mate.” He said softly and Draco broke.

He could feel his resolve start to crumble. It wasn't fair! Why did this always happen to him? Why couldn't he just be normal. He wouldn't even mind being a muggle. They seemed so loving, so carefree. It sounded like a life that would benifit him greatly.

He had always been and will always be a victim of his environment. Why did he have to live a life that others had dictated for him? Why couldn't he just be free?

Hot and heavy tears spilled down his cheeks. “But I don’t want to let her go.” He wailed.

Pansy pulled him into a tight hug as he sobbed onto her robes. “I know darling. I know.” He whispered soothingly. “But you have to. You don’t have a choice.” he froze.

He was sick of hearing those two words. The two words that had torn his life from him, that had turned him into a monster that he had never asked to be. He had _no choice_. He'd never had a choice.

Draco pulled abruptly away from her, suddenly feeling a wave of anger pass through him. “I never have a fucking choice.” He shouted. “I thought I had the choice of choosing to become a Death Eater. Well, I bloody didn’t. I thought I had a choice to not kill my Headmaster. Nope, don’t have that either. I thought I could chose whether or not to let Death Eaters into Hogwarts. Oh, would you fucking look at that. Still no bloody choice.” He spat out hysterically.

“And now,” he carried on, “now you’re bloody telling me that I have to give Kat the portkey and maybe never see her again.” He roared, his face plastered with complete despair.

Blaise sent him a distraught look. “It was your idea.” He reasoned.

Draco glared. “Well, now I have a new idea. Kat stays with me.” He snarled, but deep down he knew that he was fighting a losing battle.

“You know you can’t do that. Please think rationally.” Pansy begged him, tears slipping freely from her cheeks.

He cried. “But I hate it Pans. I hate it so much.” He sobbed even louder.

She nodded. “I know, but you have to keep strong.” She said softly.

“I don’t want to be strong anymore. I’m tired. I’m so, so tired.” He breathed out defeatedly. “I’m tired of the voice in my head telling me to do awful things. I’m tired of pretending to be someone that I’m not. I’m tired of staying strong. I’m tired of fighting. I don’t want to fight anymore.” He declared; his voice laced in pain.

Blaise nodded, his eyes welling up with rare tears. “If we don’t fight then we have nothing. If we don’t first survive then we can’t live. If we don’t hate then we can’t love. If we only feel fear then we can’t feel hope.” He looked into Draco’s eyes pleadingly. “And _hope_. Hope is the only thing stronger than fear.” he told him, echoing the few words that Draco had told himself many times before.

He put his arm of Draco’s shoulder. “When I look at you I see someone worth believing in. I see someone with all the odds against him, but still battling to keep the ones that he loves safe. I see someone brave and strong. Someone who hopes and someone to put my hope in.” he gave Draco a small smile. “You’ve changed Draco. And you’re the exact change that I want to see in the world.” He finished.

Draco blinked, completely astounded. “I don’t know what to stay.” He started.

Blaise shook his head. “Don’t say anything, just do the right thing.” He whispered quietly, and Draco finally saw reason.

Draco took a deep breath in. He knew what he had to do. He had to talk to Kat. He had to save her. 

The knowledge hurt him. Scared him, even. But he’d realised something. This time, he had a choice. He really did have a choice. He could choose to be selfish and put the girl who was like a sister to him in harm’s way. Or, he could get her out of Hogwarts. He could get her to her family where she would hopefully be safe.

A single tear slipped down his cheek. And all he wanted in that moment was one thing. One person. He wanted Potter. He wanted _His_ Harry. 

….

_**18:42p.m** _

“Draco, is everything okay?” Kat asked, her eyes full of worry, as he made his way hesitantly towards her.

He gave her a small nod. “Everything’s fine. Well, it will be fine.” He corrected himself.

She gave him a sceptical look. “Then why did you call me here?” she questioned, and he braced himself for what he was about to say next.

It was something that he didn't want to do, but something that had to be done.

Draco took a deep breath, lowering himself onto his knees so that he was eye level with the small girl. “Something’s happened. Something’s going to happen, and I need you to listen to me. I need you to do as I say.” He said seriously.

Kat’s eyes widened in fear. “Draco, what’s going on? You’re scaring me.” She sobbed and he felt awful.

No matter how much preparation he'd given himself, nothing would have truly prepared him for that. Hearing that his best friend was scared, and it was all his fault in the first place.

Well, lets just say that he'd never wish that feeling on anyone.

He gave her a strong hug, mumbling absently into her hair. “It’s okay. It’s all going to be alright. I promise.” He assured the quivering girl.

He pulled back hesitantly, reaching into his pocket, and pulling out the green apple portkey. “This.” He held it up so she could see, “is called a portkey, it’s set to activate once you hold it and it will take you home.” He told her carefully.

She shot him a confused look, “but why would you send me home?” she asked.

He sighed raking his brain for the softest answer possible. “Bad people are coming to Hogwarts. People who want to harm people like you. I’m doing this to keep you safe.” He said honestly.

“People like me?”

Draco nodded. “Muggleborn’s” he informed her.

She gasped. “Why would they want to hurt me? I haven’t done anything to them.” She cried out with worry.

He gulped. “You haven’t done anything. You’re absolutely perfect. They’re just very deluded and prejudice people, who will stop at nothing to get what they want.” He snarled out that last part.

“So, they’re stupid?” she asked innocently.

Draco chuckled. “Yes, they’re stupid.” He took a deep breath. “I just want to tell you how grateful I am that I found you that day outside the Slytherin dorms. You’ve changed my life for the better.” He choked out.

She shivered. “I’m grateful too. But why does this feel like goodbye?” she asked her eyes filling with tears.

He shook his head, smiling through the tears. “It’s not goodbye.” He told her determinedly. “It’s just see you later.” He promised.

Kat started to cry hot, wet, tears. “No, I don’t want to see you later. I want to see you now.” she wailed, pulling him into a hard hug.

“Me too. Me too, sweet girl.” He mumbled into her shoulder. “But I swear that when you see me again, it’ll be as if no time has gone by at all.” he reassured her.

She pulled away from him. “Promise?” 

He nodded. “I promise.” He breathed, pulling out the portkey once more.

She reached out to grab it, her hand hovering over it. “Do I make you happy?” she choked out,

Draco’s eyes filled with fresh tears as he gave her a warm smile. “You make me happy. You make me so, so happy.” He cried out and she beamed as she disappeared in a flash of green light.

He crumpled to the ground, feeling as if a part of his soul had been ripped out. Kat was gone, but it wasn’t over yet.

It was time.

With a heavy heart, he stood up and went to do what had to be done.

….

_**19:01p.m** _

The Astronomy tower was dark and grey, it almost lifeless except from the Headmaster who stood before him. The man was weak and frail, struggling to stand up right.

Draco approached him, tears staining his cheeks and pain eating up his heart.

“Good evening, Draco.” The Headmaster acknowledged cordially, and it made Draco’s stomach churn. Didn’t he realise? Couldn’t he see what Draco was about to do?

The Headmaster took a deep breath. “What brings you here, on this fine spring evening?” he asked and Draco wanted to hurl. 

He pointed his wand at him in threat and hopefully power. The Headmaster carried on but Draco paid him no mind, the ring that hung safely around his neck started to pulse. It hot and heavy. Reminding him of what he was. Of what he could never be. Of all that he was going to lose.

“You are no assassin.” The Headmaster spoke slowly and Draco felt anger pulse through his veins.

He growled. “How do you know what I am?” He spat with fury. “I’ve done things that would shock you.” He seethed. Because how did the old man know? How could he not see what Draco was? He was a coward. He was manipulative. He was a Death Eater. He didn’t deserve to be understood. No, he deserved to rot.

“Oh, like cursing Katie Bell and hoping that in return she’d bare a cursed necklace to me? Like replacing a bottle of Meade with one laced with poison?” he said and Draco froze. _He’d Known_. The Headmaster had known all this time and he hadn’t done anything. That angered Draco. He could’ve stopped him. Intervened. Even killed him. But he hadn’t he let Draco descend down the path into darkness, sell his soul to the devil himself. He hadn’t saved him.

The Headmaster carried on, “Forgive me, Draco. But I cannot help feeling these actions are so weak that your heart really couldn’t have been in them.” He said calmly and Draco hated him.

He hated him because he was right. Draco’s heart hadn’t been in it. He didn’t want to do it. he still didn’t want to do it. But he had to. He had no choice.

‘ _Do it Draco. Kill him_ ’ The voice urged and Draco couldn’t breathe.

Draco flashed the Headmaster his Dark Mark, hoping that it would relay the severity of the situation at hand. And as the moment presented itself, he quickly disarmed the Headmaster, the elder wand falling from his grip.

Suddenly, the door clinked and Draco’s heart sunk. _The Death Eater’s_. They were early.

“Draco… years ago I knew a boy, who made all the wrong choices. Please let me help you.” He pleaded. Draco scoffed. _Now_ he offered him help. 

Tears were falling freely from his eyes now; Draco slowly lowered his wand. “I don’t want your help!” he bit out. “Don’t you understand? I have to do this. I have to kill you.” He pleased desperately. “Or he’s going to kill me…”

He couldn’t do it. He wouldn’t do it. The Headmaster would one day die, but it would not be by his hand. He’d made his _choice_.

Just as he was about to accept his Headmaster’s offer of salvation, Death Eater’s stormed in. Them circling and prodding him, urging him to finish what he’d started. He wouldn’t. He wasn’t strong enough for that.

Then, Severus Snape burst through, pointing his wand directly at the Headmaster. “ _Please_.” He almost begged and Severus gave a tiny nod. _Avada Kedavra_. The Headmaster was dead.

The choice had been made for him.

….

_**19:27p.m** _

Draco was outside on the school grounds, the Death Eater’s running manically in front of him. Victory dusting every last one of their features.

“Malfoy!” a cold voice boomed, and he felt his heart stop. He kept on going. He couldn’t face it. He couldn’t face him.

“Malfoy!” the voice said again desperately, and Draco turned around.

He looked up into the blazing green eyes of Harry Potter. Hermione and Weasley were stood behind him, unreadable looks dusting their features. “Potter.” He sobbed out.

Potter shook his head. “Why did you do that? How could you do that?” he spat out. “I trusted you!” he screamed.

Draco’s eyes filled with tears. “I’m sorry.” He choked out.

Potter chuckled dangerously. “You’re sorry?” he snarled. “You’re fucking sorry? That’s all you have to say for yourself?” he demanded an answer that Draco could not give.

Draco nodded, pulling the portkey from his pocket. “I can’t explain there’s not enough time.” He held out the portkey. “I need you to take it.”

“You’re giving me a bloody ring?” Potter boomed out.

He took a deep breath. “Kind of. It’s a portkey. But after it activates it becomes just an ordinary ring.” He started and Potter looked at him sceptically. “It’s a promise. I charmed it to bare my magical signature. So that you always have a piece of me with you. That you remember that no matter where you are or who you’re with, I love you.” He said with a shaky breath and Potter’s eyes widened.

“I’ll _always_ love you.” 

Potter growled. “NO! You can’t say that. You can’t say it now. Not like this.” he begged him.

This was harder than he'd ever imagined. He thought that knowing what he was going to do would make things easier. Would soften the blow. He was wrong. He'd never been so wrong.

He took a deep breath remembering something that his mother had told him long ago, 'If you don't sacrifice for what you want, what you want will be the sacrifice.' He hadn't understood her then, but now as he thought about it he realised her words couldn't be anymore true.

The greatest sacrifice, the _only_ sacrifice he could make was his happiness so maybe, just maybe Potter could _live_.

Draco sniffed, as he opened his mouth to continue. “But it’s true, and I want you to remember it.” he said honestly.

Potter’s eyes glistened in realisation. “You’re not coming with us?” He whispered.

Draco shook his head. “I can’t. I have to stay. I can’t go.” He tried to make Potter understand.

“No first you deceive me. Then you tell me that you love me. And now you’re going to leave me. No. No. No!” he screamed.

His hot tears were sticky against his skin. He just wanted it all to be over. He just wanted it all to turn out to be a terrible, terrible nightmare.

Why wasn't it working? Why wasn't he waking up?

“I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry.” Draco sobbed. “But you all have to go. You have to go now. they’ll be here soon and I can’t stop them from hurting you. Please go, please just go.” He pleaded.

Potter frantically shook his head. “No, not without you.” He cried stubbornly.

Draco sighed. He loved him. He loved him so much. He loved his unwillingness to give up. He loved his smile. He loved his ambition. He loved everything about him. He just loved _him_.

“ _Harry_.” He breathed for the first time and Harry froze. “There’s nothing you can say or do that will change my mind. I have to stay. I’m a liability at your side and we both know it.” he said rationally.

“But at least we’d be together.” He pleaded with Draco.

He took a deep breath. “I’d rather we’d be together alive than dead.” He said honestly.

Draco was doing the right thing. He knew that he was doing the right thing. He had to believe it. He had to. Because he couldn’t afford to be wrong. If he was, then he’d lost everything for nothing. And Draco wouldn’t be able to live with that.

Gathering up all the courage he had left, he placed a kiss full of longing, passion, and love to Harry’s pouted, full lips. The kiss saying all the words that he couldn’t express. It was over as quickly as it had began and Draco felt empty.

He looked up at Harry’s broken green eyes before shoving the ring into his hand and pushing him into Hermione and Weasley, who both shot him smiles that were full of reassurance and forgiveness.

Harry gave him a betrayed look as the portkey activated.

“I love you, and I let you go.” Draco whispered as the love of his life disappeared in a puff of smoke and a flicker of a green light.

Draco sunk to his knees, tears falling down his cheeks. He’s never felt pain like it. It was as if someone had torn out his heart, leaving him with nothing but a blackened soul. His rock. His head. His heart. Was gone. And Draco didn’t know if he was ever coming back.

Draco turned cold as he realised that he wasn’t done yet.

He was still a danger to Harry. A danger to his life and the whole wizarding world. He had to protect him. He had to keep him safe. No matter the cost.

With a heavy heart he pulled out his wand, it felt empty in his hands.

He took a deep breath, setting a trigger word. One that only Harry would know. One that Harry would say when the time came.

With the last shred of hope that he had left he lifted the wand and pointed it to his head. He prayed that feelings were something that couldn’t be forgotten. 

_Obliviate_.

His mind became fuzzy, his eyes became glassy as his memories were ripped from him. He forgot the smile that Harry only saved for him. He forgot the endless nights they spent wrapped around each other under the nights sky, the stars their only witnesses. He forgot Harry’s laugh. He forgot how Harry felt as he made love to him. He forgot their days together, their notes. He forgot the first time he’d told Harry that he loved him…

He’d forgotten it all.

As he came back to himself, he felt weird. He looked around, unsure just how he managed to stray away from the Death Eater’s. He didn’t mind too much. In fact, he was glad, he hated them. He hated them all.

He felt a soft pulse on his chest, it warming him up all over. Confused, Draco’s hands latched onto a chain that hung round his chest. He pulled on it, lifting it as it revealed a sliver ring hanging from the other end. It was _beautiful_.

He stared at it in complete awe as he tried to remember why it was there in the first place.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Weeps into chocolate* Well, that hurt. I actually cried when I wrote this. It had to be done. I know it looks bleak but Drarry WILL get their happy ending! A lil teaser for next chapter: … :(  
> Since the Astronomy scene used some quotes from the Sixth Book I wanted to put in another Disclaimer: I do NOT own Harry Potter. I mean would I really have deprived the world of Drarry if I did? Spoiler.... NOPE!


	10. Chapter Ten.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Drops chapter and runs*

The Dark Lord had invaded his home.

He’d always known that he was there but knowing it and seeing it were two different things. Whilst yes, you could say that Draco had already witnessed the Dark Lord in his home when he’d received the mark, but he’d been shipped off to Hogwarts only shortly after that.

But now, now it was real.

The Dark Lord sat on his couches, he ate his food, he breathed the same air as him. Draco wanted to puke; the air was like poison.

It had been several months since he’d let the Death Eater’s into Hogwarts and it was now the Easter break. Ever since that day, he’d just felt… empty.

Everything was the same but so, so different.

He missed Kat like mad. It was as if a part of his soul was lost and there was no hope of recovering it. But she’d had to leave. He had to keep her safe. In fact, none of the Muggleborn’s had returned to Hogwarts this year. He’d made sure of that.

He missed Hermione and although he would never admit it to him, he even missed Weasley. They had become good friends of his, friends he’d cherished and adored. Not that they’d ever look at him now. Not after what he’d done.

What was even more crazy is that he even missed Potter. Just the smallest, tiniest bit. He missed their jabs and taunts. He missed the sneers and the spats. He even missed Potter’s stupid greens eyes, his stupid smile, and his stupid scar. He hated that scar.

Pansy and Blaise acted distant whenever he mentioned Potter. When he’d first spoken about him on the first day of their seventh year, they’d both looked at him with pained expressions. As if they knew something that he didn’t. It was all terribly off putting.

Draco also found it extremely peculiar that he was friends with Hermione and Weasley but not Potter. From what he could remember Potter was hardly ever there, and when he was, he hardly acknowledged Draco except from the odd taunt. When they were alone, Potter was vicious. Pushing and shoving Draco, desperate to make him hurt. It wasn’t as if Draco minded, he deserved it anyways. 

He listened to Potter Watch every day. It was foolish of him, he knew that. But he couldn’t help it. He had to know if everything was okay. If Weasley and Hermione was okay. If Potter was okay…

Fine! He admits it. He was worried about Potter. Of course, it wasn’t because he cared about Potter. That didn’t make any sense. He hardly knew who Harry Potter really was except from being his childhood nemesis. But he had to listen.

Listening, even if it were only for a few moments. He had to know. He had to know if Potter was safe. Potter gave him hope. If Potter were alive then everything would be alright. The Dark Lord wouldn’t take over. And Draco would be okay. Even if that was in Azkaban. At least he would be alive.

Draco even wrote to Potter.

It was stupid. He knew it was. Potter would never read the letters. He didn’t even want Potter to read the letters. That was the furthest thing from his mind. It was an outlet. Someone to speak to that hardly knew him. Who didn’t know who Draco really was.

He knew he’d never tell Potter. He knew that nobody would never know. But he had to do it. He had to write to Potter. It kept him sane.

In fact, he had just finished writing a letter to Potter. He had been desperate. He needed someone to listen. Anyone.

He read it over.

_Potter,_

_It’s two days into the Easter Holidays, and I swear I’m going mad. Everywhere I turn the Dark Lord is there. Some days, when it gets really bad, I think about ending it all. About giving up. I know I could. I know how. I could make it quick and easy. It wouldn’t have to hurt at all. It could be painless._

_But I can’t._

_I_ _know I can’t. Not yet._

_It’s selfish. There’s just too many people depending on me. My mother, my friends, myself…_

_I just hate it here. I hate the Dark Lord and all that he represents. I hate that he’s living in my home. I hate that my father cares more about his Lord than his own family. I hate that I’m too weak to do anything about it. I hate that I bare his mark._

_I’d be lying if I said I didn’t willingly accept it. Well, that depends on what you define willingly as. If by myself presenting my arm to the Dark Lord and accepting his mark at sixteen, then yes I was willing. I wanted to make my father proud. I wanted to protect my mother. But the more I think about it, the more I dwell over it. I realise that I never wanted the mark in the first place. I wanted my father’s approval. I don’t care for the Dark Lord nor his regime._

_It was torture. Getting the mark, that is. My father had woken me up early that morning and had told me that it was a matter of life and death. He had told me that he was bound for Azkaban and now all of his misdeeds had befallen to myself. That I was to serve the punishments for his mistakes. I didn’t want to. I wanted to run. I wanted to hide. Instead, I was dragged into the foyer. My mother was to the left of me, my father was to my right, the Dark Lord was in front._

_The Dark Lord had told me to bare my arm. At first I’d refused. I didn’t want it. I didn’t want to be like him. He then aimed his wand at my mother and crucioed her. I can still hear her screams whenever I close my eyes. She was crying, gasping, begging him to stop. He was killing her. I tried to get him to stop, but the Dark Lord just laughed at me and asked if I would be able to carrying on living knowing that my mother’s death was on my hands._

_I knew I wouldn’t be able to, so I bore my arm…_

_I was doing it for my mother, for my sanity, and for my father. I wanted to make him proud I wanted to keep him safe._

_So, was I willing? I don’t know anymore._

_I know you don’t like me Potter. I don’t much like you either. But doing this. Talking to you every day. Even if you might not be alive. It keeps me sane._

_Please don’t die. You give me the hope to carry on fighting._

_Cordially,_   
_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

He sighed, carefully sealing the letter in an envelope that was never to be opened. It scared him. How much he needed these letters. How they kept him fighting. How they kept him living. He mused that the reason behind this wasn’t Potter. It could’ve been anyone. It just so happened to be Potter.

He still hated Potter. He hated Potter with his whole being. But after all, you could still hate someone and need them just as much. 

His emotions towards Potter were all messed up. He was so confused. It was as if he’d forgotten the years they’d spent antagonising each other and now saw him as a beacon of hope. It was strong. He just felt so strongly towards Potter. He didn’t understand it.

He mused that recent events showed that you could somewhat forget occurrences. But feelings, now those were something that could _never_ be forgotten.

….

One thing that Draco had always loved about his mother was her ability to make him smile even in his darkest of hours. He’d be crying on his bed, or curled up into a ball in the parlour, and she’d find him. She’d always find him. 

She’d come over, a frown dusting her features and say, ‘Draconis, I took nine months to form your heart, do not let yourself or anyone break it in fifteen seconds.’ 

When she’d first told him that, he’d barely understood it. Maybe it was because he was seven at the time, or maybe it was because he just wasn’t that smart. He gulped, yeah, it was probably because he was only seven. Draco wasn’t anything but smart.

Anyways, she’d bend down, her elegant robes flowing, and pull him into a giant hug, softly raking her hands through his hair. She made him feel safe, secure, loved. They’d just lie there, in each other’s arms for Merlin knows how long. 

As he’d grown older, he’d realised that her words didn’t matter, no, it was her actions. She could’ve just left him cry or told him to get over himself like his father had. But she didn’t. she made sure that he knew that he was loved. She made him believe that no matter what, it would all work out in the end.

Which is why, Draco felt his heart break as he gazed down at the tear stained woman lying on his lap. “It’s okay mother.” he repeated over and over as he gently threaded his fingers through her hair.

She’d come in just after he had finished crafting one of his many letters to Potter. ‘Is everything okay mother?’ he’d asked her in concern. She’d slowly shook her head, tears spilling down her cheeks as she collapsed onto his lap.

His mother had always been so strong. A visionary, filled with hope. Now she was defeated, giving into the darkness that threatened to submerge them all. 

He wanted to cry. He wanted to yell. To shake his mother and beg her to stop. He wanted to tell her broken he was. That some nights he desperately wished he’d fall into a peaceful sleep that he’d never wake from. 

Draco wanted to tell her that he was tired. That for the longest time something hadn’t been right with him. Like he’d forgotten something and he couldn’t remember what. 

He wanted to tell her to smile. To tell him that everything was alright. He wanted her to hold him when he cried. To make him happy when he was sad. He wanted his mother back. He _needed_ his mother back.

Instead, he just held her close. It wasn’t about him. Not anymore. In his arms, he held the woman that laughed at his jokes. Who’d attempted to make him cookies when he was sad. The woman has always and will always love him unconditionally. 

It was his turn now. It was up to him to make sure his mother felt as safe as she’d always made him. 

As she held her in his arms, he realised something. He realised that he could have given up. He could’ve ended it so many times. But he didn’t. He wouldn’t. He was a fighter. He was a survivor.

He was strong.

And he knew that he was going to continue to be strong. It was the only choice he had.

….

Draco couldn’t do much. He was living with the Dark Lord himself, after all. But what little he could do, he did.

It wasn’t meant to be a constant thing. Just a few scattered meals here and there. Nothing much, nothing special. But after the sheer relief he saw on the Manor’s prisoner’s faces, he knew deep down that he’d never be able to stop.

So, it had become an everyday thing.

His family and he were still under heavy surveillance by the other Death Eater’s. They were still seen as soft, condemned by all. Draco letting the Death Eater’s into Hogwarts had spared their lives, his failure in assassinating his Headmaster and cost them their freedom.

That had resulted in him bringing food to the prisoner’s only at night. On the rare occasions that he was caught, he’d crucio them. Well, by crucio he’d say the words as they skilfully pretended to writher in unbearable pain. Every prisoner was taught how to successfully fake a crucioing on their first night at the Manor.

It was a bit like the students back at Hogwarts. They’d fake every scream, every cry. Draco was seen as somewhat of a hero back at the castle. That thought couldn’t be more unsettling. He wasn’t a hero; he was a fraud who had gotten them all into that situation in the first place. He’d been the one to let Death Eater’s into Hogwarts. He was the reason that Albus Dumbledore was dead. It was all his fault.

But he had to keep going. He couldn’t go back and change the beginning, but he could start where he was and change the end. And he chose to be good.

“Hello Luna,” he spoke quietly at the sleeping girl. He felt the familiar feeling of guilt wash over him when he looked at her. Her face was dirty, her clothes hung off her bones. It was a sight that should never have existed in the first place.

Over their many nights spent together, he’d created a bond with the blonde girl. He admired her ability to stay optimistic no matter what. He envied how she always managed to stay true to herself. To be the person who she always wanted to be.

She smiled at Draco, “hello, Draco. I see that the wrackspurts are still as potent as ever.” He blinked at her, because ‘wrackspurts’ were the only things that he couldn’t understand. But when he’d brought that up Luna had just laughed and said, ‘that’s the whole point Draco.’

“Nice to see you again, boy.” Ollivander croaked. Draco smiled at him before handing out the extra food and blankets between him and the other prisoners.

Draco was amazed how they could even stand to look at him. How they all managed to appear somewhat functional after all they’ve had to endure.

He sat down next to Luna. She gave him a searching look, “it’s not your fault, Draco.” She said with assertion.

Draco raised a confused brow and decided that he would never understand this girl. “What are you talking about?” he questioned.

“You think it’s your fault that all of this is happening.” She stated knowingly.

He took a deep breath. “But it is.” He admitted

She shook her head. “I used to think that my mum’s death was my fault. That maybe if I were happier, or kinder she would’ve lived. I was just so confused.” She let out a loud sigh and Draco felt his heart crack a little.

“But then I found the wrackspurts.” Draco bit back a laugh, because of course it was. “I realised that I could see them. Floating around everyone, and I realised that I wasn’t alone. Everyone was as confused and sad as I was. I wasn’t any different.” She concluded, and Draco felt weirdly better. Even if he still had no idea what in the hell wrackspurts were.

He gave her a rare smile, “but you _are_ different, Luna.” He said honestly.

She grinned. “I know, that’s the beauty of it I think.” she told his wistfully

He gave her a confused glance, “but doesn’t it bother you? That you’re different and everyone knows it.” he asked.

Luna shrugged. “I think that makes it even better. What’s the point of being different if nobody knows about it?” she reasoned.

Draco’s features softened because he’d never thought about it like that. “That’s true. But doesn’t the things people say about you hurt?” he questioned intently.

“Sometimes. But then I just remember that they say those things because they don’t believe. Not everyone can see the world as I do.”

He gave her a sceptical look, “and how do you see the world?” He asked with interest.

“Beautifully broken.”

Draco felt tears start to well in his eyes as she mirrored the words Kat had said not too long ago.

Luna gave him a smile, “It’s not easy to be like us.” She commented.

“Like us?” he questioned in pure bafflement.

She gave him a knowing look, “Different.” She said simply.

He was taken aback by that. As far as he knew, he was quite similar to everyone else. Morally wise, okay maybe he was a little different, but everything else was the same.

“I’m not—”

Luna shook her head, “don’t worry Draco, it takes some time to accept, but when you do, you’ll never feel freer.” She reassured him.

He opened his mouth to speak but she cut him off again. “Close your eyes,” she directed, and he did, albeit hesitantly. 

He felt weird. His head was heavy on his shoulders, his heart was beating rapidly. He forced himself to relax, to find peace in the darkness. “Just let go.” She whispered. And he did.

Several seconds later, he opened his eyes, tears were trickling down his cheeks. The room was alive in colour. Surrounding them all were tiny little dots, the colour of the rainbow. 

He could see them.

Luna shuffled closer to him, resting her head on his shoulder. “We’re just as sane as they are.” She murmured.

He couldn’t hear anything but the tiny voice in his head telling him that maybe she was right.

….

Harry sat at the edge of a small pond, gazing up into the nights sky. 

It was beautiful.

But although vast, they felt empty. _He_ felt empty. Even though he was surrounded by his friends. That he had so many people who loved and had faith in him, he’d never felt so alone.

He missed Draco. He missed him so goddamn much. It was as if someone had taken away the piece that made him whole. The most important part of him.

The first night after Draco had cast them away with a portkey, he’d felt broken. He still did. He was just far better at hiding it.

He’d refused to eat. He’d refused to sleep. He’d refused to talk. Everything reminded him of Draco. He saw his smile in the flowers. He saw his hair in the sun. He felt his love through the stars. 

He didn’t blame Draco. He didn’t blame him at all. He understood completely. He didn’t have a choice. He was just a boy forced into a life that he didn’t want to live. Harry knew all about that. They were quite similar in that respect.

But at the same time, they were so different. He’d been raised by the Dursleys, and even though they’d been less than good, at least he knew they hadn’t loved him. At first it had been a tough pill to swallow. They were his family. He wanted them to love him, so, so much. But they hadn’t and he was so thankful for that, because if they had, he knew that he would’ve turned out just like them.

But they’d treated him like crap, and that had made him determined not to turn out like them. Did he condone their actions? Fuck no. But did they help him become the person that he was today? Absolutely. 

Draco hadn’t had that. He has parents who loved him but were on the wrong side of the war. He’d grown up thinking that Voldemort was right and the light was wrong. He was taught that Death Eater’s were good and Muggleborn’s were bad. It was so much worse when a parent loved you because you were much more likely to trust and respect their beliefs.

But even with the odds against him. Draco had still become best friends with Hufflepuff’s. He still managed to apologise to all he had wronged. He couldn’t kill Dumbledore. He made Portkey’s for all the Muggleborn’s. He’d saved Ron, Hermione’s, and his life. He loved Harry….

Draco Malfoy wasn’t a bad person; he was the strongest person that Harry had ever known.

And Harry had lost him.

He should’ve tried harder to get Draco to come with them. He should’ve pulled, tugged, done anything to keep him safe. But he hadn’t. Because he was a failure. When it came down to it, Harry Potter was a coward.

During those first few months on the run, Harry had wanted to give up. He’d lost Draco, there was no point of carrying on without him. But after months of wallowing in his self-pity, he’d realised something. 

He hadn’t completely lost Draco, not yet.

Harry knew he was still alive. He felt him all around him. He felt his magic thrum throughout the ring that hung from his neck. He felt him in his heart.

He had to keep going. He had to live. For Draco.

Maybe that made him naïve. Maybe it even made him a little bit selfish. But he didn’t care. Everybody had that one thing that kept them going. That one thing that gave them hope. His was Draco.

Harry sighed as he threaded his finger through the ring that he kept so close. Through teary eyes, he looked back into the nights sky. He knew his parents were up there watching over him, and deep down he knew they were doing the same _for Draco_.

They’d protect them both. 

He absently thought about the ring that hopefully still rested on Draco’s chest. He smiled at the thought, because maybe, just maybe he was protecting Draco too.

….

The stars were beautiful.

Draco had managed to sneak past the Death Eater’s and escape to the pond that was located near the back of the Manor’s grounds.

He’d snuck out to the pond every night since he’d gotten back to the Manor. He couldn’t explain it. He just felt this persistent need to sit by the pond every night by himself, watching the sun come up. It was silly, he knew that. But in a weird way, the act made him feel safe, protected.

Ever since he were a little boy, he’d been lonely. He hadn’t had many friends, and the ones he did have his father never let him play with. It had hurt him more than he’d ever care to admit.

But he wasn’t alone.

No, he’d never been alone, he’d had the stars. They’d always been his friends. He’d played with them, laughed with them, confided in them. They made him feel safe, wanted, loved. He’d always believed that there was someone up there, watching over him and keeping him safe.

He gulped as he took in the nights sky, a familiar feeling residing in his stomach. He couldn’t explain it. He just knew that he needed to write. He needed to write to Potter.

_Potter,_

_The stars are especially bright tonight. Their brightness makes me feel a protection that I’ve hardly ever felt before. I know what you’re thinking: that Draco Malfoy is crazy, that he’s gone round the bend. Maybe you’re right. I couldn’t possibly know. But if I was, or if I am even, I can’t say I mind all that much. Being crazy that is._

_Luna helped me see that._

_I’ve realised that it’s okay to be a little bit different. So maybe normal people don’t make friends with the stars. Maybe normal people don’t hear voices in their heads telling them to do awful things. Maybe normal people just aren’t like me. But that’s fine. Great even. What’s the point of living just to be average? And I’ll tell you one thing, Draco Malfoy is anything but average._

_I’m just different, and I’ve made peace with that. Anyways, I’m just as sane as you are. I just see the world from a different perspective. Whether that’s a rose-tinted one, a grey one or a frickin’ blue one, I don’t know. But all I do know is that I’m okay. Or, I will be when it’s all over._

_I worry about you. I know it sounds pathetic. I can’t even tell you why. I promise, I want to know as much as you do. It’s as if everything changed at the beginning of seventh year. I spend far too much time listening to Potter Watch. I divert the Death Eater’s away from possible sightings of you. I think about you all the time._

_Well, that sounds completely mad. It’s as if I’m obsessed with you._

_I just want you to stay safe. I need you to stay alive. And I don’t know why. It’s destroying me._

_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

Draco sighed, folding up the letter and stashing it safely in his pocket. He gently brought the ring that hung silently from it’s chain, into his hands. Squeezing it tight, as if it could leave him at any second.

He couldn’t remember where it was from, he just knew that he could never part with it. It was a part of him. He’d rather die than leave it behind.

He knew that it would always protect him, that it would always keep him safe. The ring gave him the strength to carry on living.

He gazed up at the stars until they were covered by the sun’s light.

….

It could be heard throughout the Manor.

It was loud, desperate, and pleading. Draco wanted to drown it out. He wanted to pretend that it wasn’t there. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t.

Something deep inside of him told him to run towards it. That he needed to get to the source, no matter what.

So that’s exactly what he did. He followed the scream.

He followed it deeper and deeper until he reached the foyer of the Manor, and his heart stopped. His Aunt Bellatrix was looming over a figure. A small and defeated figure.

The screams carried on. They were like a never ending nightmare, finding comfort inside his head. He needed to stop this. He needed to be brave. He needed to be strong.

“Stop this at once.” He ordered his manic aunt, his voice wavering, vomit crawling up his throat.

His aunt started to shake violently with laughter. “Oh, likkle baby Draco, has finally come to play.” She shrilled turning around to face him, a sick glint residing in her eyes. “But you’re being rude, you haven’t said hello to our guest.” She grinned before turning the tiny figure to face him.

He couldn’t breathe.

It was as if all his past mistakes had finally caught up with him. He was finally getting what he truly deserved. He didn’t want it. Oh Merlin, he didn’t want it.

Kat stared back at him, eyes wide, quivering with fear. Her dress was torn, her body bloody. Her hair was matted, her smile was non-existent. 

She was just a girl. A beautiful, little girl. She shouldn’t be here. She didn’t deserve to be in his aunt’s clutches. He wanted to run to her. He wanted to keep her safe. But he couldn’t move. He was paralyzed.

Bellatrix squawked as she danced around in triumph. “You thought that you could get away with it. That you could be a blood traitor and no one would notice. But I noticed. I. Noticed. It. All!” she howled.

Several seconds later and Draco finally regained the ability to speak. “Let her go.” He said lowly, his voice wavering in fear. Not for himself, but for Kat.

Bellatrix smiled viciously before dropping Kat’s broken body to the floor. It falling with a tortured _thump_.

She growled before making her way towards Draco. He knew how he had to play this. He had to be obedient. Smart. He had do everything and anything he could to keep Kat safe.

“You’ve been a very, very bad boy.” She whispered in his ear, raking her sharp nails into his hair. He visibly shuddered, willing himself not to throw up. “I tired to fix it.” she spat out and Draco froze.

She cackled. “I’ve always known you were weak. A small, terrified likkle baby. That’s all you’ve ever been.” She started; her crazed filled eyes boring into his own. “I knew that you’d never go through with the task that our Great Lord had so graciously set you.” 

His aunt licked a long strip of his face, saliva now dripping from his chin. “You taste of fear.” She murmured. “You shouldn’t be scared, sweet Draco. I’m not going to hurt you. I helped you.” She stated simply.

Draco took a deep breath. He had to stay calm, he couldn’t break. He had to remain strong for Kat. “Helped me?” he whispered brokenly.

She nodded frantically. “Oh, yeeesssss.” She hissed. “Haven’t you wondered just why you were able to complete your task? Why you didn’t chicken out?” she asked him, her eyes gleaming. “I know you Draco. I know that you didn’t want to do it. That you were never going to fully go through with it. So, I gave you a little bit of a push…”

What was his aunt talking about? What push?

She howled with laughter, pushing her face so close to his that their lips were almost touching. “If you get a chance..” she said in an odd calm tone, “Say hi to the little voice in your head for me.” His aunt sneered before returning back to Kat.

It all clicked.

His body shook with realisation. It all made sense. When Dumbledore offered him sanctuary but he’d refused. When he was having second thought about Rosmerta but went through with it anyway. Whenever his friends offered him help, but he’d ignored them.   
Every single time he’d wanted out. Whenever he’d been so close to giving up. He’d kept going. A little voice in his head telling him to keep going. One that he couldn’t ignore. 

He thought he’d been doing it to keep his mother safe. To keep his family safe. He didn’t know anymore. Was it a lie? Had it all been a lie?

To have ones free will ripped on them. To think that he was free, then be told differently. He didn’t know how to comprehend it.

He felt useless. Worn. Torn. He really was a puppet. But it wasn’t his father, no, it had been his aunt Bella all along.

He looked over at his aunt hovering over his best friend, a menacing glint in her eye. He couldn’t save her. He couldn’t save anyone. He couldn’t even save himself.

A soft pulsing was vibrating gently on his chest. He looked down, picking up the ring that hung silently from it’s chain. It eloped him in it’s warmth, it’s protection thrumming through him.

He realised something.

He may have let Death Eater’s into Hogwarts. He may indirectly be the reason that the Headmaster is dead. But he’d made peace with his enemies. Become best friends with a beautiful Hufflepuff. He’d risked his life bring food and blankets to the prisoners. He refused to crucio his classmates. He’d saved the Muggleborn’s, Potter and co.

He wasn’t weak. He. Was. Strong.

Draco assessed the situation, his aunt’s wand was pointed at Kat, a manic look plastering her features. He knew that look.

He knew what he had to do. He ran.

A pain fiercer than he had ever known ripped through him, as he fell to the ground, withering in pure agony. It was as if millions of hard electric impulses were flowing through him. It hurt. Merlin, it hurt. Tears were streaming down his face; his heart was beating erratically. 

But Kat was okay.

That’s all that mattered. That’s all he cared about. He bore it so she didn’t have to.

“Stupid, boy!” Bellatrix screamed before his body was hurled from the floor, slamming onto an opposite wall.

He howled, feeling all the strength slowly leaving his body. He was cut, torn, bruised. He couldn’t breathe. The pain was far too much to bare.

She laughed manically, “did you really think you could go against me? Did you think you could associate with mudblood filth?” she spat out. “I’ll show you exactly what happens to bad boys who don’t do what they’re told.” She threated, pointing her want at Kat.

The little girl said nothing, too weak to move or speak. Draco’s eyes widened, and then it was all moving in slow motion.

“NOOO!” He shrieked, crawling towards his best friend. He dragged him broken body along, ignoring the sheer agony of it. That didn’t matter, none of it mattered. He was close, so, so close. He didn’t care what he had to do. What he had to endure. As long as she remained safe.

He was almost there. She was right in front of him. He was going to make it. He was going to save her.

 _Avada Kedavra_.

It was over.

He howled in pain as he reached the lifeless figure, his aunt laughing in glee. “I killed a mudblood. I killed Draco’s likkle mudblood.” She chanted and he saw red.

“You bitch!” he screamed, pointing his wand at her. “I’ll kill you.” He threatened with conviction. “I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!” he roared spitting out a multitude of spells that she ever so easily blocked.

She chuckled. “You’ll never kill me.” She snarled before disappearing into a cloud of smoke, leaving him alone.

His attention immediately turned to the lifeless figure before him. Frantically, he scooped her up into his arms. “Kat!” he howled. “Wake up, please wake up. You’re okay. You just need to open your eyes. Do it for me. Open your eyes.” He begged, pleaded.

“No. No. No. No. NO!” he shouted tears streaming down his face. This wasn’t real. It was a dream. No, a nightmare. One that he needed to wake up from. “Wake up.” He ordered more to himself then the sleeping girl.

This was all his fault. Everything he touched died. She shouldn’t have been here. It shouldn’t have been her. She was the epitome of beauty and innocence. A vibrant and loving little girl, who represented all that was pure in the world.

This was war.

A bloody and isolated place. There were no friends in war, just enemies. It was full of chaos and destruction. Gore and death. It wasn’t the place for an innocent.

He rocked Kat back and forth, holding her as close as he possibly could. “I’m sorry.” He breathed. “I’m so, so sorry.” He sobbed, “This is my fault. This is all my fault.” He gasped out delirious with pain. 

It was like nothing he had ever experienced. He didn’t know how to deal with it. How to make it make sense. He felt so little, but so much all at the same time.

“Come back to me!” he yelled and the bloodied figure, “I need you. Please, please come back to me.” 

He tore at her dress. Clawing it frantically. He had to find the wound. If he found the wound then he could save her. She wasn’t dead. SHE WASN’T DEAD! 

She wasn’t allowed to be dead. 

Suddenly he froze, as he came across a folded piece of parchment in her front pocket. With shaky hands he pulled it out, unfolding it.

He couldn’t breathe.

Before him lay a sketch of a smiling girl. Her eyes were wide with wonder, her smile was vibrant and pure. She looked carefree, beautiful, alive…

With a choked gasp he turned the paper around. ‘ _You make me happy_.’ The same four words that he had written so long ago. The same for words that he had meant with all his heart.

Tears full of defeat and agony were pouring down his face. His body was shaking, his heart smashed into unfixable pieces. He felt every part of him break as he read what was written just below his own words.

‘ _You make me happy too, Draco_.’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. The decision to kill Kat has been something I've been battling with since the story began. I really didn't want to do it, but I had to. It makes perfect sense for the story's direction and Draco's character development. Scream and me, shout at me, do whatever. I was in tears after writing this chapter :(


	11. Chapter Eleven.

Draco was fine.

There was nothing wrong with him. This was war. Things happen during war. People die, people live. Shots are fired, shots are lost. It was normal. He _was_ normal.

It had been a few days since the death of Kat, and he hadn’t cried since. He didn’t need to scream, nor shout, no, he didn’t have time for that. He didn’t have time to feel. If we all stopped and let every little misfortune break us, then where would we be?

Draco was doing the right thing. He was making a calculated survivors move. How could he possibly win a war if he were too caught up in his emotions. It just wasn’t practical.

War was all about moves and countermoves. Victory and loss. Emotions didn’t fit into that equation.

He believed that emotions were just fickle things that one could control. That he could decide how he wanted to feel, and he’d decided to feel nothing. 

He felt nothing because he was _fine_.

With a sigh, Draco lamented over the letter he had just written Potter, carefully folding it and tucking it safely into its envelope. It was his shortest letter yet. _I’m fine_. He had simply written. Because he was, fine that is.

“Draco.” A strong voice bit out, snapping him from his thoughts.

He looked up, nodding his head in a cordial fashion, “Father.” He replied stoically, in somewhat of a greeting.

His father shifted slightly where he stood, and Draco wondered what in Merlin’s name he wanted. Their last conversation hadn’t been exactly ideal, and the Malfoy heir hadn’t spoken to his father since. He hadn’t wanted to.

“I heard about the little Hufflepuff mudblood, ghastly thing is young death.” He remarked and Draco’s teeth clenched at the mention of the word ‘mudblood’.

He shrugged with disinterest. “What’s it to you?” he asked with a slightly accusatory edge to his voice.

His father let out a simply sigh, “nothing of importance. I just came to ask if you were feeling alright.” He offered and Draco’s heart stopped.

_If he was feeling alright_? He couldn’t remember the last time his father had genuinely asked how he was feeling. It was weird, almost refreshing. Most definitely out of character, but Draco didn’t mind so much.

He opened his mouth to speak but was abruptly cut off his father’s drawl, “because if you were feeling alright, then you would have no excuse as to why you were associating with mudblood filth.” He angrily spat.

And _there_ it was. The same old Lucius Malfoy that he’d always known and right now only conditionally loved.

“She’s my friend.” He answered and his heart clenched uncomfortably in his chest. Was.

His father shot him an incredulous look. “Friend!.” He hissed. “My son, the Malfoy heir, a somewhat honourable Death Eater friends with a mudblood. A Hufflepuff, no less.” He growled at him in pure disbelief.

Draco felt something acute to anger start to bubble up deep inside him, “Yes father, I’m friends with a Muggleborn Hufflepuff. Actually, I’ve made friends with many Hufflepuff’s.” he lowly informed him.

“You really are a naïve child. What do you think the Dark Lord would say to that? You’re ever so lucky that your aunt is keeping the little event that happened at the Manor a few days ago to herself.” 

Draco rolled his eyes. Lucky him. His crazed aunt was keeping a killing to herself for once. Must be hard for that murderous bitch.

He shrugged. “Sorry if this sounds crude, but I honestly couldn’t give a fucking shit what that noseless bastard thinks.” He bit out defiantly.

His father visibly paled. “Draco.” He hissed almost pleadingly. “He could be listening, you insolent child. Do you want to die?” 

“Dying seems like a much more pleasurable deal than living.” He reasoned.

His father shook his head, his eyes wider than Draco had ever seen them. “You must not think like that. I will not let you.” He spat.

Draco started to laugh manically. “My condolences, but I’m afraid I don’t care much as to what you want. I’ve spent sixteen years of my life caring and look where it’s gotten me.” He seethed at his father. “I’ve betrayed those that I care about. I’ve broken relationships that mean much to me. I’ve got the symbol of everything I fight against tattooed on my arm. And that’s all because of you.”

He was tired of it. He was tired of his father always acting as if he was above everyone else, as if he were always right. Well, he wasn’t. Not this time.

His father took a large, defeated breath. “You’re right.” he admitted, and Draco’s eyes widened because _that_ was unexpected.

“I made a choice.” He carried on. “A poor one, and if I could go back and change it I would. But I can’t, so I have to adapt. I have to follow the wishes of the Dark Lord, and so do you. We’ll die. _You’ll_ die. And I will not let that happen.” He said firmly.

Draco’s eyes started to tear up. To hear his father, say these things to him. For his father to act like somewhat of a human being, was all he’d ever wanted. It was what he deserved to hear.

He took a brave breath, “You may have made your choice, but you made my choice for me.” He gestured to the mark that was ingrained onto his skin.

His father shook his head. “And that was one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I should’ve let you choose. You could’ve been greater, better than I.” he mumbled.

Draco gulped feeling distressed. “But I did choose.” He admitted more to himself than anyone else. “I chose to be better. I _am_ better.” He gave his father a thoughtful look, “I have to believe that. I have to understand that. Or all this, everything I’ve done, would be for nothing.”

“I am hard on you. Not because I don’t care for you. But because I don’t just want you to survive. I want you to _live_.” His father admitted and a tear rolled down Draco’s cheek.

His father took a deep breath, sitting down next to him on the bed. “I’ve made my choice. There’s no hope for me now. I may still believe in what the Dark Lord stands for, but I don’t follow his leadership. I find that whilst I may believe in what he says, I cannot wholly commit myself to a man like him.” He admitted and Draco was shocked.

His father looked him dead in the eye, “But as I look at you. As I see all that you have become. All that you fight for. I _know_ that I couldn’t be prouder.”

Draco was speechless. His mind was foggy, his lips silent. This was everything he had ever wanted. His father’s acceptance. His father’s pride. He didn’t agree with his father’s choices, nor did he understand his beliefs. But he realised that his father loved him, and that was something he had _always_ needed.

His father clapped a hand onto his shoulder, “The Hufflepuff girl?” he questioned intently.

Draco shook his head. “I’m fine.” He croaked out and his father’s face fell.

He was fine. He had to be. It was the only choice.

….

“Hello Draco.” Luna chirped as he sat down next to her. She looked better than she had a few days ago, brighter, fuller even.

He gave her a weak smile. “You seem to be in an uplifted mood.” He remarked.

She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, yes. Something good is going to happen tomorrow, I can feel it.” she said in wonder.

Draco tried not to snort in disbelief. He knew better than to trust in fickle things like feelings. They only caused upset and heartbreak. Nothing more, nothing less.

“Really? Because I can’t feel crap.” He huffed out at the wide-eyed girl.

Luna shifted closer towards him, resting her hands softly against his own. “Do you think, that, perhaps, you meant that in more ways than one?” she asked intently.

“What else could I have _possibly_ meant by it?” he bit out sarcastically. 

She shrugged. “I don’t know, why don’t you tell me?” she urged him.

Tell her. Bloody _tell her_. He knew _exactly_ what to tell her. He’d tell her to stick her little feelings and intuitions somewhere Draco would never find them. Thinking that she could act all warm and comforting, and he would tell her everything.

Well, she was wrong.

Draco would rather pet a blooming hippogriff than tell her anything. He was fine for fucks sake. Just fine.

“I don’t have to tell you anything.” He hissed at her, looking determinedly at the floor.

She smiled and him knowingly, “I know exactly what you’re doing. I’ve seen this many times before.” She commented.

Draco raised a brow at her, “Oh, so you’re a healer now?”

She shook her head. “Of course not, Draco. But I can see what’s right in front of me. I’m afraid the wrackspurts are larger now, more potent. But that’s not all, there’s something else, something I can’t quite place.” She mused, studying him carefully.

He scoffed. “What an ever so informative analysis, Healer. So far I’ve learned nothing.” He retorted giving her an annoyed look. “Wait!” he said frantically. “I think I’ve actually learnt something. It’s small but it’s there. Maybe if I just focus my energy on the wrackspurts then I could just….”

He tilted his head slightly, darting his eyes to the side as if in search for something. “I’ve nearly got it. Almost, there… Nope. Still nothing.” He shrugged.

Luna huffed. “Using sarcasm as a defence to mask grief, is not terribly uncommon.” She stated.

“Did the wrackspurts tell you that too?” 

“Perhaps. But your commentary has just proven my point.” She deadpanned.

So, Draco was sarcastic? Everybody in the world was sarcastic. And if they weren’t? Well, their poor life choices wasn’t his problem.

So, what if Pansy said his jokes were a little too much? Or that one, or fifty times that Blaise had commented on his poor wit. Their ignorance wasn’t his fault. That they were so wrapped up in their boring dialect to truly appreciate his intelligence.

He was a realist. Was that really so hard to comprehend?

“Well, I don’t think that I need to listen to this attack for any longer.” He huffed, rising to his feet in a swirl of robes and blonde hair. He’s said it before, and he’ll say it again, Severus Snape would be jealous. And as he should.

“Don’t you think you’re being just a little bit dramatic Draco?” she asked gently.

He narrowed his eyes at her. Him dramatic? How rude. It was an outrage. A travesty. A bloody catastrophe! So, maybe he liked to flick his hair and flare his robes to make a valid point. It was normal. Dramatic his arsehole. Draco, dramatic? That was laughable.

He shook his head violently. “The only thing that’s dramatic is you thinking that I’m dramatic.” He stumbled.

She sighed. “That didn’t make much sense.” She informed him.

“Well, I don’t wake up every day to impress you with my commentary.” He huffed before walking towards the gates. As he got to the lock, he stopped, before turning back to face the amused girl.

He put a hand on his hip. “If you were wondering, I get up every day to fix my luscious locks. Do you think that _this_ just happens?” he preened running his fingers through his hair before stomping out of the dungeons.

….

….  
“Well?” he aunt asks, pulling on the back of Potter’s head. Her eyes were full of desperation, her voice laced with manic pleading. Draco hated it. He hated her.

He knows it’s Potter. Of course, it’s Potter. Draco had been obsessing over him for several years. Potter had invaded his speech, his thoughts, his dreams…

Everywhere he looks Potter is there. Giving him something to do, giving him confidence, giving him hope. He’s written to Potter more letters these last few weeks than he has anyone in his whole life.

Potter had been his whole life ever since he started Hogwarts. Their jabs and taunts. Their spits and spats. It had all been about him. It always had.

Potter looked up at Draco, deep pain was plastered onto his broken features. Tears falling from his one broken eye. He looked a mess. His emotions seemed to be all scrambled up. Draco couldn’t comprehend it. He looked happy, but sad. Optimistic put defeated. Relieved but worried. Tortured but thankful. And something else. Something that was so large, which made him glow so brightly, something that he couldn’t quite place.

How could this man before him not be Potter? Draco would always be able to spot Potter. Always.

He had a choice. One that could determine the outcome of the war. One that could return the Malfoy name to glory. One choice. One life-altering choice.

“I can’t be sure.” He said with a shaky breath. He’d made his choice. The one that he would always make. He realised that it had never really been a choice. No, it was an action. One that he had carried out.

His father came from behind him, begging and pleading with him to be sure. Draco ignored him. He was far too focused on the ring pulsing from beneath him, filling him with an indescribable warmth. He felt safe, he felt free.

Draco was completely submerged. So, locked in the warmth that the locket was emitting that he was only broken out of his trance by Weasley’s violent screams.

“NOOOO!” He yelled frantically. “Take me, take me.” He begged as he was dragged out after Potter tears streaming down his face.

Draco blinked, as he frantically darted around to find that he had suddenly forgotten how to breathe. His aunt was looming over Hermione, a manic glint residing in her eyes. 

Hermione was screaming and crying in sheer agony. “Stop, please stop.” She begged as his aunt carved the words _mudblood_ into her wrist.

Something inside Draco snapped as he marched towards the scene, “Stop this!” he growled, “stop this at once. You’re hurting her.” he yelled. 

Hermione was his friend. The friend who had forgiven him for his previous vile behaviour. The friend who tutored him in transfiguration and sat with him in the library. The friend who comforted him when he was sad and vice versa. He wouldn’t allow his aunt to do anything to her. He couldn’t let it happen. Not again.

“That’s the point.” His aunt turned to face him, giving him an angry sneer. “What’s wrong little baby Draco?” she cooed. “Come to try and fail saving this mudblood like you failed to save you little Hufflepuff mudblood filth?” She spat and Draco saw red.

“Don’t you DARE call any of them that!” He roared, pointing his wand at his aunt. 

She shrieked in crazed filled laughter. “Oh, I’m so scared. Likkle Bikkle Dwaco is going to do something bad to me.” She spat out. “Well, it’s a good thing I know exactly what to do to make him hurt.” She snarled firing a crucio at Hermione.

Hermione started to scream yet again. Her eyes puffy, her nose running, her body bloody and bruised. Draco felt sick. He needed to stop this. He needed to stop this Now.

His aunt lifted her wand again, and Draco dived.

Suddenly, his body was overwhelmed with the feeling of pain. He was shaking violently, tears were falling down his face, blood was trickling from his forehead. His head felt huge, his eyes were rolling into the back of his skull. 

His aunt hit him again. And he felt worse. If that was even possible. His mother’s screams and his father’s cries were echoing throughout the room. They were pleading, no begging, for his aunt to stop such a ludicrous act. He tried to listen to them, to lose himself in the sound of their voices. But all he could hear was the blood pounding in his ears.

He wanted it to stop. He wanted it all to end. But he couldn’t stop. He wouldn’t stop. He had to save Hermione. He had to protect her. To keep her safe. He bore it, so she didn’t have to.

Several moments later, Potter and Weasley burst through the room. Through blurry eyes, he was sure that he could see their ex-house elf with them, but he was probably hallucinating.

All of a sudden, he felt a healing charm wash over him, and he jumped to his feet. He crawled towards Hermione, desperately pulling her close as he tended to her wounds.

“Don’t die on me.” He begged her, in between healing charms. “Not you. I’ve already lost so much. I can’t lose you too.” He pleaded with her.

Draco’s pleas were drowned out as his wand fell from his grasp. He clumsily picked it up, turning to face a complete battle.

It was the Dark against the Light. The Good against the Bad. Malfoy’s versus the Prisoner’s. 

Draco glanced at Hermione briefly, her wounds seemed to be recovering nicely. Well, everything but that hideous scar. Certain that she would awaken soon with strength, he got up and ran into the battle.

He shot a few curses and hexes as well as successfully disarming his aunt. Serves the crazy bitch right.

He looked up. Potter’s eyes were on him as he slowly made his way towards Draco. He didn’t want to hurt Potter. He could never hurt Potter. No matter what Potter may think of him.

Panicked, Draco backed himself into a corner, before tripping and falling to the ground. Well, he’d done it now. It was over. He was all Potter’s now. Potter would probably even AK Draco. Not that he minded all that much, he deserved it.

Potter crouched down next to him, tears falling from his eyes. “Draco?” he whispered in pure disbelief. His features wide with shock.

Draco took a deep breath before properly facing Potter. “Well, of course it is, who else would it be?” he snapped and Potter shook his head before bringing him in for a tight hug.

He froze as he was engulfed in a deep warmth, his ring buzzing with magic and tranquillity. It felt oddly nice to be this close to Potter. He felt safer than he’d ever felt, locked soundly in his ex-nemesis’ arms.

Confused, Draco abruptly pulled away from Potter. “What the hell do you think you’re playing at?” he spat at a dazed Potter.

“Hugging you?” Potter said as if It were the most obvious thing in the world. “I’ve missed you so much. I’ve been up every night, just pleading that you was okay. That I’d see you again.” He started and Draco blinked in bafflement.

Potter must have sensed his confused state because his features became very serious. As if the middle of a bloody battle wasn’t already the appropriate place to at serious.

He took a deep breath, “do you not believe me?” he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability. Potter clutched Draco’s wand, their hands almost touching. “I promise that I’m telling the truth. I’ve been completely lost without you. There’s been more days than I’d like to admit where I’ve wanted to give up because you wasn’t with me.” He told Draco intently.

What was Potter talking about? Had he confused Draco with someone else? Had war taken a toil on his mental state? So many question, and so little answers.

“I didn’t know if you were even alive. I prayed you were. I begged and pleaded every day. It almost became too much, I almost let go. But I realised, that I had to carry on. That I had to keep strong. The sooner the war ended, the sooner I’d see you. You were the only thing that kept me going. What keeps me going.” He whispered his eyes laced with emotion.

No one had ever looked at him the way Potter was looking at him now. It was deeply unsettling. Draco didn’t deserve it. That look wasn’t his, it was probably reserved only for the Weaselette, and he’d stolen it.  
Potter was looking at him the way a lover looked at a lover, and they were anything but lovers.

Draco took a shaky breath, “what the actual _fuck_ are you talking about Potter?” he asked and Potter’s face fell. 

“Draco..” he whispered. “What’s wrong with you.” He asked pleadingly. “If they’ve done anything to you, I swear I’ll kill them. I’ll kill every last one of them.” He spat out angrily, his eyes alive with fury.

Draco shook his head, “they haven’t done anything to me Potter. You sound crazy right now.” he pointed out.

Potter racked his free hand through his messy curls. “It’s me Draco. It’s me. Can’t you see? Don’t you know? Don’t you remember?” He sobbed through tears.

“Remember what?” he asked pointedly. “All this better not be some sort of distraction to--- mmphh.” Draco was cut off, because suddenly Potter was kissing him.

Harry freaking Potter was kissing him!

His lips were slightly chapped, as they desperately moved against his. They were begging, pleading, full of emotions that he couldn’t express. Words that he couldn’t bring himself to say. Draco felt his stomach churn, something fluttering inside of him. his heart was beating rapidly, it felt good. It felt _too_ good. 

It was if he was finally whole. That the part of him that had been missing for so long had been found. Potter made him feel safe. He made him feel secure. He made him feel alive.

Scared, Draco abruptly pulled away. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re doing?” he sneered angrily.

“Don’t tell me you never felt that?” Potter asked desperately.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, “what I felt, and what I didn’t feel is none of your concern.” He growled.

Potter let out a defeated sigh, “can’t you see? It is my concern. Everything you do is my concern. You will never not be my concern. Draco please listen to me.” He begged.

Suddenly, he heard Hermione shout as she, Weasley and the house elf came running towards them. His parents and Bellatrix were down, but they wouldn’t stay that way. Not for long.

“Harry, we’ve got to get out of here!” Weasley cried, he stopped when he looked at Draco. “Good to see you again mate.” He gave him a smile which he hesitantly returned.

Hermione looked at him with tears in her eyes before pulling him into a tight squeeze. “Thank you.” She whispered softly.

Weasley took a scared breath, “we really have to go. Come on!” he yelled as he took the house elf’s hand, Hermione following suit.

Potter snatched Draco’s wand from his hand, “Come on Draco, we have to leave.” He stated gesturing Draco to follow.

Draco shook his head. “I’m so glad to see you.” He directed particularly at Hermione and Weasley. “But I have to stay here. I can’t leave my mother.” he explained.

“You can’t stay here!” Hermione shrieked. “They’ll kill you.”

He gave her a sad smile he hope was reassuring. “They won’t kill us. They need us. They can’t survive without the Malfoy fortune. Why do you think we’re still alive?” he said.

“No. No. NO!” Potter shouted. “I won’t lose you. I can’t. Not again. You’re coming with us.” He declared as he attempted to pull Draco towards them.

Draco growled. “I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about but let go of me. I need to stay. I have to protect my mother. I have to lead the Death Eater’s away from you. Who the fuck do you _think_ will feed any new prisoner’s if I’m not here?” he spat out. “I’m staying.”

Potter shook his head violently. “Then I’m staying with you. I don’t care what happens to me. As long as were together.”

“For Merlin’s sake Potter, what are you going on about?” he huffed.

Suddenly, his aunt shrieked, frantically running towards them. Draco made a split-second decision, pushing Potter onto Weasley. “NOW!” he screamed at the house elf who apparated.

The last thing he saw was Potter’s broken face before everything went black.

….

It was breezy on the cliff. The air was stuffy, the grass was long and overgrown. Harry dropped down to his knees as soon as he’d hit the ground. Tears were felling down his face; his eyes were red and puffy.

He couldn’t breathe.

He didn’t want to breathe. Not anymore. The one thing that he’d thought about. The reunion that he’d so desperately craved. The one and only person that had kept him going, was gone.

It had all been ripped from him in a blink of an eye. 

Hermione came up from behind him, bringing him into a soft embrace. She felt warm and comforting. She smelt like fire and parchment. Things that reminded him of home. Something that Draco had always been. He didn’t have that anymore.

“I’ve lost him.” he sobbed into her shoulder, crying harder than he thought humanly possible. “I’ve really lost him.” he almost whispered.

Hermione pulled away from him, locking her desperate eyes onto his broken ones. She looked determined; it was once thing that he’d always admired about her. “You haven’t lost him. She spoke with forceful conviction. 

Harry shook his head manically, turning his head from her burning gaze. He couldn’t bare to look at her, not when he was like this. “He doesn’t remember me. He really doesn’t remember me.” He cried out.

“You don’t know if that’s true.”

Harry abruptly got up, making his way to the edge of the cliff so that his gaze was overlooking the sea, Hermione followed suit. “I _know_ it’s true. I saw it when I looked into his eyes. They were full of bafflement and misunderstanding. They weren’t his eyes. They weren’t _my_ Draco’s eyes.” He whispered quietly to himself.

Hermione clamped a comforting hand onto his shoulder. “Isn’t that a good thing?” she asked hesitantly.

Harry cringed, turning around to face her, his eyes ablaze with fury. “How the _fuck_ is this a good thing?” he spat as he dug his nails deep into the palms of his hands. “He doesn’t remember me. What part of that sounds good to you?”

Hermione took a deep breath, “All I’m hearing is that he doesn’t remember you.” She started and Harry opened his mouth to tell her that, yes that was the point, but she quickly cut him off. “He doesn’t hate you. Or is going against you. He hasn’t fallen out of love with you. The Draco that you know is still in there. _Your_ Draco still loves you.” She breathed out.

Harry paused for a moment, digesting everything she had to say. He supposed that she wasn’t entirely wrong. Draco still loved him; Harry was sure of it. He’d just forgotten.

“The question is, are you willing to find that Draco again?”

He nodded silently, a single tear escaping his clutches. He’d find Draco again. How could he not? Harry would do anything for Draco Malfoy. That was something that would never change.

….

The dungeons were dark and cold. The chain hanging from a single leg dug forcefully into his angles. The Malfoy’s had been sentenced to spent three nights in their own dungeons after what had happened with Potter. It was less of a physical punishment, than it was to bring utter humiliation on the Malfoy name.

His mother was huddled into a corner, complete discomfort plastered onto her sleeping features. His father was siting next to him, wide awake, deep in fury. For once, Draco understood the emotion on the elder Malfoy’s face, the act was nothing but mortifying. 

Draco tried and failed not to think about Potter. He was still half convinced that it had all been an elaborate scheme to break him. Well if that’s what he was going for, then Potter had done a tremendous job. Draco was utterly broken.

The pleading in Potter’s eyes heavily unsettled Draco. He mused that Potter must be one hell of an actor to pull something like that off. Draco almost believed him. _Almost_.

In fact, the only reason that Draco didn’t believe him was simply because of how unbelievable the whole thing was. Did Potter really think that he could pull it off? That Draco would believe that The Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, the fucking Saviour of the Wizarding World, had feelings for Draco Malfoy? It was beyond pathetic. It all was.

“Draco.” His father hissed and he turned to face him. “Would you care to tell me what exactly overcame Potter and yourself earlier today?” he enquired.

Draco shrugged, shifting slightly closer to his father. Well, as close as the bloody chain would let him. “Trust me, I’d tell you if I knew.” He sighed out.

His father looked down at him thoughtfully as he unknowingly played with a few strands of his long locks. “Looked to me as if you had _quite_ the romance going on.” He remarked.

Draco looked at his father in complete bafflement. He was so confused. “Aren’t you mad?” he couldn’t help but ask.

To Draco’s utter surprise, his father started to chuckle. “Of course, I am. I’m absolutely furious.” He said and Draco’s face fell. “Not because you’re gay, but because you’re dating Potter. My son, a _Malfoy_ , dating a Potter? It’s quite so very unthinkable.” He huffed.

His father was okay with him being gay? His father had sort of made peace that he was dating Potter? Draco wasn’t even dating Potter for Merlin’s sake!

“You don’t have a problem that I’m gay?” he whispered hesitantly. His head was spinning and his face was red as he waited for an answer.

His father shrugged. “I’ve had several years to get used to the idea.” He said simply.

“Several years?” Draco questioned in disbelief.

His father gave him a look that said, ‘did you really just ask me that?’ “Oh yes. I was extremely appalled at first, I definitely wanted to rip your throat out. But I just figured you would grow out of it.” he looked at Draco pointedly, “obviously, you did not.”

Draco gulped, “And Potter?” he asked, even though he wasn’t sure as to why he was asking. It wasn’t as if they were together.

His father gave him a rare smile. “That’s how I knew.” He said simply.

“Wha… I… you… huh?” Draco blurted out.

“Oh, please do think about this logically Draco. There wasn’t a moment when you didn’t speak about Potter. You even found yourself in the room as soon as his name was mentioned. It was quite obvious that you hated him for a different reason then you let everyone think.” His father boasted.

Draco narrowed his eyes at him, “and what reason might that be?” he questioned.

His father sighed. “That you were confused about your sexuality because of Potter.” He stated as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Draco sexually confused because of Harry Potter? Now, Draco had heard it all. He was convinced that his father had gone crazy. Azkaban does that to a person.

“I don’t like Potter.” Draco said.

His father shrugged. “Say what you want, your earlier actions prove differently.”

Draco huffed. “I don’t want to talk about it.” her turned his back on his father, it was none of his business. What Draco thought felt or maybe possibly feels was none of his concern. 

He didn’t know what was to think. He didn’t know what to feel. But the one thing he was quite certain about was that he didn’t want to talk about it with his father.

Several seconds of silence passed before his father let out a low cough, “do you want to talk about it?” he asked.

“Talk about what?” Draco replied absently.

“Kat.”

Draco felt his heart stop, the name sending shivers down his spine. “I’m fine.” He said simply as he attempted to come across emotionless.

His father sighed, “that’s not what I asked.” He reasoned.

“Well, I don’t give a rat’s arse what you asked. Now can you please leave me alone.” He spat, before closing his eyes.

“You’re not. By the way. Fine, that is. I know you think that you’re strong, and that you don’t want to hear it. But, it’s okay not to be okay. You need closure. Whatever or whenever that may be. You really need it.” His father said.

Several more seconds passed and Draco attempted to be calm. He was fine. He told himself. He. Was. Fine! Goddamn it! He felt a single tear roll down his cheek and he broke.

He looked up at his father with tearful eyes, “I’m not fine.” He admitted, his heart threatening to explode.

His father nodded, “I know, but you will be.” He reassured.

Draco shook his head because he severely doubted that was true.

….

Draco stared down at the raised mound in front of him. A wooden cross lay hauntedly in front of it. He would add a gravestone in a years’ time. Hopefully. 

He was alone. He had to be alone. He was the only one that she’d known. The only one that he hoped had truly understood her.

It had taken a strength that he didn’t even know he possessed to be able to come out here today. He wanted to run. He wanted to hide. He wanted it to be all over. But he couldn’t. He wouldn’t. He needed to be strong. For the both of them.

With a shaky breath he sunk to his knees so that they were resting just in front of the mound. Hesitantly, he pulled out a sheet of parchment from his pocket and began to read.

“You saved me.” He whispered quietly.

He shifted slightly, “I was ready to give up. To give up on happiness. To give up on love. To give up on life. I was in such a dark place. I didn’t think I had anyone to turn to. I was tasked with something impossible that I knew deep down I’d never be able to complete it. It seemed as if it was all over. That I was done.” He started, desperately trying to fight of the tears that threatened to escape.

“But then you found me.” He breathed. “You looked at me. And I mean _really_ looked at me. You didn’t see the Slytherin Ice Prince or Death Eater scum, no, you saw me. Just Draco.” He let out a weak smile. “It was the first time that anyone had really understood me. That anyone just wanted to get to know me for myself.”

“You made me feel safe. You made me feel accepted. It was as if I was an actual human being. I’ve never believed in platonic soulmates, but after meeting you, I now know for sure that they do in fact exist.”

He raked a distressed hand through his hair, he could do this. He knew that he could do this. “I wanted so much more for you. You deserved so much more. You were so innocent, so pure. You truly represented all that was beautiful from the world. War wasn’t the place for someone like you. It’s bloody and isolated. Cold and haunting. Everything that you were not. Something as repulsive as war and something a breath-taking as yourself, should never have crossed paths.” He choked out.

“War took you from me. And I will spend every moment of the rest of my life resenting it for that.” He took another deep breath, “I was meant to protect you. I promised that I’d keep you safe. I’m sorry. I’m so, so sorry. I can’t change the past. I wish more than anything that I could, but I can’t.”

He felt a single tear fall onto his reddened cheek. “But I can change the future. I can look it straight into the eye and go for it. I can be someone that you’d be proud of. That I’d be proud of.” He sighed, “there’s nothing I can do or say that would ever make it up to you. But I can try. I can try and laugh. I can try and be kind. I can and will try to be the person who you thought I was. Of whom I _know_ I am.” He sobbed.

Tears were falling freely as he set down a single white rose onto the mound. “You made me happy. You will always make me so, so happy.” He finished before holding the ring that hung from his neck close, as he let his grief take over.

….

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'M WEAK! I COULDN'T KILL DOBBY :( That kind of hurt, but we do love a little bit of Drarry! I kind of wanted to explore the Draco and Lucius dynamic. I don't much care for Lucius but even though he hasn't got great morals, I believe he loves his son.


	12. Chapter Twelve.

_**2nd May 1998** _

It was time.

The Dark Lord and the Death Eaters had left the Manor just moments before. His mother and father had been forced to go with them. Rumour had it, that Harry Potter was at Hogwarts. Draco’s heart squeezed in his chest at the thought that Potter could be facing the Dark Lord this very moment. He hoped to Merlin that he was alright.

Today was a day he’d always known was coming but didn’t quite want to believe to be true. He had been living in denial. Well, not anymore. The biggest battle to ever grace the wizarding world was presumably happening at Hogwarts, and Draco was stuck at the Manor.

Yes, he had been banned from the battle.

After the ‘Potter escaped from the Manor because of Draco incident’, the Dark Lord had determined Draco’s loyalty to be somewhat expendable. As if that wasn’t obvious. Draco was friends with Hufflepuff's, for fucks sake! What part of that didn’t scream: fuck you! You noseless bastard?

Currently, there was a Death Eater patrolling his bedroom door and Draco was pissed. He had to get out of there. He had to be apart of the battle. He owed it to the Hufflepuff's. He owed it to his family. He owed it to Kat…

He even owed it to himself.

He didn’t have the foggiest clue as to who was actually guarding him. It was quite surprising, considering that his house had been overrun by Death Eater’s. You would’ve thought that he’d gotten to know all of them by now. Well, he hadn’t. Fat chance of that happening. Anyways, that still didn’t help him. He needed a plan and he need one now.

He sat down on his bed, running a tired hand through his silvery locks, what could he do? Perhaps he could seduce the Death Eater in question? Draco shook his head at that, it had too much potential to go wrong, plus Draco wasn’t admittedly looking his best. He could devise a plan to trick the Death Eater? Draco sighed, no that wouldn’t work either, it would take too much time.

What to do, _what to do_? He pondered lightly. He could— no, he couldn’t do that, it was too risky. But maybe it would work if— no, no, NO! It couldn’t possibly work. Draco groaned; he was being stupid. It would never work. He flopped down onto his bed in defeat, feeling sorry for himself in every possible way.

Suddenly Draco shot up, eyes wide with possibility. It could work! It could, it could, he was sure of it. He needed to be quick, it needed to be planned accurately. He only had one chance. But it could really work. He could really get out of here.

Draco took a deep breath, ‘Operation Be an Impulsive Gryffindor Like Potter’ was a go.

He’d rethink the name later.

….

After years and years of careful analysis, Draco had realised something. Okay, so _maybe_ it hadn’t been years, but it had been one so it still counted! Anyways, after years and years of analysis he’d realised that every Gryffindor had a little bit of Hufflepuff within them. And maybe, just _maybe_ every Slytherin had a teeny-weeny piece of Hufflepuff within them as well. Not that he’d admit that to anybody. Ask him and you die!

Besides, Draco wasn’t being a Slytherin right now. No, he was being a Gryffindor and a Hufflepuff by default. And since all the houses seemed to have a smidge of Ravenclaw within them, he guessed he always had been a little bit of a Ravenclaw.

Draco had always loved Ravenclaw's, again, ask him to admit it and well, use your imagination. Anyways, he was going off topic, he had a plan to execute.

Well… his plan was that he had no plan. But that was besides the point, it was still a plan, nonetheless. That was the Gryffindor inside him talking.

With a determined breath, Draco pulled out his wand and charged.

“ARRGGGGGGGG!” he screamed as he slammed open his door and came face to face with a very confused Death Eater. The Death Eater was tall and well built. He looked young too, as if he could really pull a few punches if it came down to it. He wasn’t kidding the man was really, really ripped. And suddenly, Draco didn’t have that much faith in his chances…

The Death Eater crossed his arms, glaring and him intently. “And what do you think you’re doing?” he sneered.

Draco gulped, _think think think_! What would a Gryffindor do? What would a Gryffindor do? “Erm…” he started nervously, “I saw a spider?” he questioned more than he stated. A spider. Really? Ron Weasley would be proud.

The Death Eater chuckled, “you came all the way out here because of a spider?” he deadpanned.

Was it really that hard to believe? Spiders were killing blood thirsty little cretins; they’d kill you without a second thought. “It was a big one.” Draco offered sheepishly.

“I have no idea why, but I don’t quite believe you.” The Death Eater narrowed his eyes at him.

So, this was how he wanted to play it? Well, they didn’t call him Draco Lucius Malfoy for nothing. Well, okay they did, but that was besides the point. Activating Draco’s inner Ravenclaw! “You don’t believe me do you? Are you an inbred? Spiders are air-breathing arthropods that have eight legs, chelicerae with fangs generally able to inject venom, and their really fucking hairy.” He commented pointedly.

Draco smirked at the baffled Death Eater, “do you believe me now?” 

The Death Eater nodded, “Sorry man, I guess that does sound pretty terrifying, but I don’t understand why—”

“Petrificus totalus!” he shouted at the distracted Death Eater who promptly fell to the floor, completely paralysed.

He smiled with glee pulling out a purple badge from his pocket and pinning it to the Death Eater’s robe, ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ it read. He was still a Slytherin after all.

With a swish of his robes, Draco strutted out of the corridor and towards the Malfoy apparition point, he prayed that the Hogwarts’s defences would be down so that he could at least get in.

He took a shaky breath as he readied himself, he was scared. He was really, really scared. But he had to do this. He finally had a choice, and he was going to make it. He was ready.

He was ready to risk his life, to lose it all in favour of doing the right thing. Of staying true to himself. That was his Hufflepuff talking. The part of him that he secretly never wanted to let go.

….

It was official. Hogwarts had definitely seen better days. 

The battle was in full swing. Rubble and plaster lined every inch of the floor, the walls were cracked and burned. The nights air smelt musty, but the breeze was cold, chilling him to the very bone. Curses, hexes, and jinxes were flying at and over his head, and Draco quickly brought up a shield. He’d rather be safe than sorry.

He looked around at the action, no one seemed to have noticed him which was a good sign. He also observed that as far as he could see, there wasn’t any dead bodies. There most definitely could be an abundance of bodies somewhere else in the castle, he prayed that wasn’t the case. But it appeared as though most of the action was happening in the foyer where he stood, so he determined the chances to be quite low.

Several moments later, he realised that there were barely any Slytherin’s participating in the battle. Well, he said _barely_ , there were in fact, a good number of Slytherin’s who seemed to be fighting with the light. Against the Death Eater’s. But in comparison to the students of the other houses, that particular figure appeared to be in the minority.

If that was the case, then just where were the Slytherins? He needed to find Crabbe and Goyle. He’d tried to call them Greg and Vincent for a while, but he’d failed. It was just too weird. Anyways, he needed them. He needed some sort of protection. That may sound a little selfish, but really, it was just strategic thinking. It’s safer to stick with a crowd than travel on one’s own, especially during a battle like this. It may appear to be narrow minded, but Draco didn’t care. He’d rather be selfish and live, then be foolish and perish.

And Draco wanted to survive. Yes, survival now, he could live later.

_Ginevra Weasley is safe but she will not be for long_. A hissing voice echoed throughout his head that he knew to be the Dark Lord. _Come and save her Potter. He beckoned and Draco felt sick_.

He needed to get out now!

If I were a cowardly Slytherin, afraid of a battle like this, where would I go? He thought, Draco was a Slytherin, yes, but a coward? He was not. Not anymore.

Suddenly it hit him, the dungeons! It was one of the last places people would think to go. He smiled slightly before making his way towards the dungeon, deflecting, and ducking from curses that threatened his path. 

He’d almost made it past what he liked to call ‘the danger zone’ when something alarming caught his eye. He froze at the sight, little piggy stood in the middle of the battle. He had always thought of her as one of the somewhat annoying Hufflepuff first-years who followed him blindly, now Draco will always remember as the idiotic Hufflepuff second year who foolishly followed Harry Potter into battle.

He had to save her, there was no other option.

Determinedly, he ran towards her, the hexes flying towards him didn’t seem to matter all that much anymore. A Death Eater had spotted her, snarling as he made his way towards the quivering girl, his wand drawn in threat.

Draco ran faster, quicker than he ever had. The Death Eater readied her stance, readying himself to utter a life ending curse.

“NOOOO!” Draco screamed as he jumped in front of her, the Death Eater quickly lowered his wand sending Draco a confused look.

“What do you think you’re doing Malfoy?” he spat out menacingly.

Draco raised his wand at the Death Eater, “get the _fuck_ away from her.” he hissed demandingly.

The Death Eater chuckled, “Oh, I don’t think so. This little bitch is going to get exactly what she deserves.” He raised his wand and Draco was sure that he was about to attack.

“Stupefy!” Draco yelled, knocking the Death Eater out cold, before quickly putting him into a body bind. He wouldn’t be escaping any time soon.

In one quick motion, he rounded on Piggy. “What in Merlin’s name do you think you’re playing at?” he seethed, red faced with anger. “You could have been killed! No, you _would_ have been killed if I hadn’t spotted you!”

She looked up at him with wide, teary eyes, “I’m sorry, I just wanted to help.” She sobbed and Draco’s features softened.

He wrapped an arm around the girl, “But you are helping, by staying safe and alive. I don’t know what I would do if anything happened to you.” He said honestly.

“Really?” she whispered in wonder.

He nodded. “Of course.” He started to lead her through the battle, “now lets get you to safety.” He stated, pulling her tight and keeping her safe.

He’d saved her. He’d saved her, just like he should’ve saved Kat. He may have protected one innocent, but he’d failed to protect the one innocent that meant more to him than he could ever express. Something about that deeply unsettled him. It was something that he didn’t think he’d ever get over.

….

Hello, old friend, Draco thought absently as he looked round the room of requirement. It looked the exact same, he supposed some things never changed. He’d come in here in search of Potter, Crabbe and Goyle trailing behind.

He was quite embarrassed actually, he wanted to find Potter, not to hand him over to the Dark Lord, but to make sure that he was safe. He knew it was pathetic, he didn’t need anyone to tell him that. He just had to do it. He couldn’t explain why.

Out of pure luck, he’d found Potter, which is why, he was currently standing in front of him, wand raised and poker face on. “Give me back my wand Potter.” He attempted to spit out, internally pitying his mortifying excuse.

Potter’s eyes were burning into his, them filled with determination and an unspoken sense of hope. “Why didn’t you tell them.” He asked, and Draco froze. “At the Manor, you knew it was me, but you didn’t say anything.” He challenged and Draco felt the blood drain from his face.

Potter knew _exactly_ why he didn’t identify him back at the Manor. He must realise that Draco was on his side, Hermione and Weasley obviously did. But as he stared into his hopeful eyes, Draco knew without a doubt, that Potter’s words were full of a deeper meaning. He knew that Potter was asking why Draco specifically saved _him_. 

Truthfully, Draco didn’t want to answer that question. He would never answer that question, for it was a question that he feared he already knew the answer to.

“Come on Draco. Let’s kill him.” Crabbe urged and Draco felt his heart plummet. 

“NO!” he shouted rounding his wand onto his friend. He had to protect Potter. He had to keep him safe. It was the only way.

Crabbe looked up at him with deep alarm. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing?” he spat.

In all honesty, Draco had no frickin idea, but he was going to carry on doing it. Crabbe may never forgive him, but he’d rather that then never being able to forgive himself.

He gave his friend a pleading look, “the Dark Lord wants to be the one to finish him. It’s his right, we can’t take that away.” 

Crabbe chuckled unkindly, “we don’t have to do what you say anymore. Your father isn’t as bad as he used to be Malfoy.” He hissed and Goyle nodded. 

In the meantime, Weasley and Hermione had appeared behind Potter, them both shooting him concerned looks. He knew that they just wanted to help him, but their somewhat helpful looks weren’t helping his current situation.

Draco felt conflicted, he didn’t want to hurt his friend, but there was no way in hell that he was letting him kill Potter. He wouldn’t let that happen.

In the end, Draco didn’t have to choose, the choice was made for him.

The Fiendfyre spread uncontrollably and Draco started to run. He could see the exit, it was so close, he figured that the others were close behind. But it was hard to see, it was a case of every man for himself.

Suddenly, he heard Crabbe scream. Screw that. He had a friend to save. Frantically, he ran back towards the fire, ignoring the pleading screams that Potter sent his way.

He found Crabbe and Goyle, both almost surrounded by fire. “Follow me.” He urged as he started to climb up a tall stack of furniture. He had no idea as to what he was doing, he was pretty sure that the mound wouldn’t hold. He just prayed that the fire wouldn’t reach them.

He sneaked a peak below him, and sure enough, Crabbe was following him up the stack and he figured that Goyle was climbing up the mound beside him. They’d be okay, he thought briefly.

It was if he was cursed. Crabbe let out an almighty cry as he began to loose his grip. Instinctively, Draco reached out a hand, grabbing his hand with his own. He hand was wet and sweaty, but Draco hung on as tightly as he could.

“Hold on.” He begged his friend who’s eyes were wide with fear. Draco felt his heart start to beat even harder in his chest as he saw the Fiendfyre start to rise. It was over. They were going to die here. There was no hope left.

He decided, that if he were given the choice, then he would’ve gone back for Crabbe. He’d always go back for him. He’d rather die trying to protect his friend then live with regret. He closed his eyes, admitting defeat, he’d be with Kat soon.

Suddenly, he felt a large weight slip from his fingers. His eyes snapped open, as he watched his friend plummet into the fire below, in pure horror. What had he done? He didn’t save him. He couldn’t save anyone. He couldn’t even save himself.

They say that hope is the only thing stronger than fear, but what do you do when there’s no hope left? Fear was the only thing he knew. It would be the last feeling that he would ever feel.

He took a shaky breath, he was ready.

In a spilt second, he felt strong arms pull on his own, lifting him up and seating him firmly onto the broomstick below him. Draco opened his eyes to the sight of the back of Harry Potter’s head.

“What the _fuck_ were you thinking?” Potter swore loudly as he expertly rode them towards the exit. “What part of I can’t live without you do you not understand?” he growled and Draco could do nothing apart from hold his waist a little tighter and pull him closer.

After what seemed like a lifetime, they finally landed roughly just outside the room. Draco didn’t even have time to gather his bearings before someone shouted ‘Stupefy!’ and his whole world went black.

….

Everything was blurry.

His head was killing him, his limbs were hurting, his chest felt heavy. Had it all been a dream? Was Crabbe still alive?

He opened his eyes wider, almost excitedly as he took in surroundings. His heart dropped a little as he saw himself in an unfamiliar place. His heart plummeted even further when his eyes fixated on none other than Harry bloody Potter.

Frantically, he jumped up from his seat, shooting daggers at Potter. “What the actual _fuck_ , do you think you’re doing?” he spat angrily.

“Is that any way to talk to the guy who just saved your life.” He folded his arms, raising an eyebrow.

Well he didn’t really have anything to say to that, did he? So, instead he diverted his gaze onto the ground beneath him.

Potter sighed, “You need to stay here. You can’t leave. I’ll come and get you when this is all over.” He stated and Draco’s eyes snapped back up to his.

“What, why?” he asked.

Like hell was he going to stay in this mouldy old room just because Potter told him to. Who the hell did Potter think he was? No, Draco was going straight back out there to fight, whether perfect Potter liked that or not.

He took a deep breath, his eyes shimmering with caution, “because Voldemort said he was going to kill the person I love.” He breathed out, and Draco looked up at him confused.

“I know he took Ginevra. What does that have to do with me?” he questioned, the Weaselette’s given name in his mouth tasting like poison. Not that Draco knew what poison tasted like…

Potter shook his head, taking a few steps towards Draco so that their lips were almost touching. Gently, Potter clasped their hands together and Draco forgot how to breathe. “He took the wrong person. _I love you_. And I can’t and won’t let anything happen to you.” He said determinedly before smashing their lips together.

It felt right. Potter was giving his all, kissing Draco with all the passion that he could muster, and Draco couldn’t help but kiss him back. He needed this. Even if it was just for a moment. He needed Potter. 

Potter seemed to be the one person he couldn’t forget. The one person he could never get out of his mind. It was as if Draco was drawn to him. Part of him couldn’t imagine his life without Potter, and that scared him. It scared him more than death.

They were completely lost in one another. Every smell, every touch, every taste, was all Potter. Their tongues twirled fiercely together, as if fighting for dominance. His lips were red, hot, and enticing, and Draco couldn’t get enough of it, as he tugged on Potter’s hair pulling him even closer.

Potter groaned at his action, tightening his arms around Draco’s waist as if he never wanted to let go. Draco couldn’t help but realise that the only time he’d felt safe, truly safe, was when he was in Potter’s arms. He didn’t know what to think about that. He didn’t know what it was about Potter, but Draco was addicted to him.

The taunts. The jabs. The sneers and spits. The letter that he wrote to Potter and Potter only. The unyielding faith and hope that he had in him. Draco didn’t know exactly what he felt for Potter, but it was definitely something. He’d be a fool to think otherwise.

It had always been Potter, somehow Draco had known that it would always _be_ Potter. 

Reluctantly, they pulled apart, lost in each other’s eyes. Potter smiled before pressing one last chaste kiss to Draco’s lips. It felt like goodbye. Draco didn’t want it to be goodbye.

“I know you don’t remember.” Potter whispered against his lips. “But I do, and I’d be a fool to ever give you up Draco Malfoy.” He admitted before quickly fleeing the room without so much as a second glance.

Draco felt broken as he watched Potter leave, deep down knowing that Potter had taken his heart with him.

….

The Battle was at an all time high as he walked towards the Room of Requirement. He had to find Potter. He knew that Potter had wanted him to stay in the room. That Potter wanted to keep him safe. But what about Potter? Who kept him safe?

He couldn’t let anything happen to Potter, not after what he’d admitted just moments before. He loved him. Harry Potter _Loved_ him. Draco Malfoy. The Slytherin Ice Prince. The Bully. The Death Eater. And Harry Potter was in love with him.

Draco couldn’t quite believe it. But he wanted to believe it, he wanted to believe it so bad. He didn’t know what he had done to get Potter to love him. He couldn’t remember. He was sure that something had happened between Potter and himself. The way Potter looked at him gave him away.

Potter looked at him as if Draco were everything to him. No one had ever looked at him like that before. It terrified him that he meant so much to Potter. That someone could be so dependent on another person.

Draco didn’t love Potter.

He knew that. How could he love him? He didn’t even remember him. What he did know, however, was that Potter meant something to him. How could he not?

Draco figured that he’d always known it. _Especially_ since the beginning of seventh year. Potter had not once left Draco’s mind. Everything had been about him. He’d never felt so drawn to Potter in his life.

Now he knew why.

Something had happened. Something had definitely happened in their sixth year. Something monumental. It made sense. The whole year was foggy in Draco’s brain. Whenever he thought back to the year, there were gaps missing. Events he couldn’t quite piece together, and whenever he tried to think about them, he would be hit with a wave of uncomfortable pressure. So, something _had_ happened with Potter, he just didn’t remember.

Suddenly, the walls started to shake and Draco turned his neck just in time to see that a mound of rubble was just about to collapse over a Weasley twin.

“Wingardium Leviosa!” Draco frantically pointed his wand at the rubble, so that it barely hovered over the Weasley’s head.

The Weasley twin looked up at the rubble hovering over his head, and back at Draco with complete astonishment. He smiled, before rushing over to Draco, helping him to lower the mound safely.

He brought Draco in for a bone crushing hug, “Oh So Dark One!” he cried, sobbing into Draco’s hair, which he didn’t find particularly amusing. “You saved me.” He whispered quietly.

Draco grinned as he broke away from the Weasley twin. “Well, I wasn’t going to let you die, was I?” he attempted to joke.

The Weasley twin laughed, “I’ve missed you Malfoy. Harry has too. He’s been a complete mess after you rescued them back at the end of your sixth year.” He mused.

Had it really been that bad? Draco glanced down at his feet filled with guilt. “So, I’ve heard.” He sighed. “I wish I could remember; I at least owe him that.” he half-asked, half-admitted.

“I heard about that. Nasty thing, that is.” He shook his head.

Draco shot him a confused glance. “How do you know about it?” he accused lightly, genuinely intrigued.

The Weasley shrugged, “let’s just say news travels fast.” He laughed, “plus, Harry has always been bollocks at covering up his feelings.”

Draco secretly agreed because if the past week had shown him anything, it was that Potter was nothing but transparent.

“I guess—"

Suddenly, a rouge hex flew past Draco’s head, and he quickly looked up, raising his wand in defence. The battle continued. 

….

When Draco entered the Great Foyer, he felt sick. There were bodies _everywhere_!

He saw the lifeless figures of Mr Lupin and what appeared to be his wife, his cousin, their bodies broken and crumpled, lying side by side. In that moment, Draco felt horrible for his past behaviour towards his teacher. He’d never apologised. He never would get to apologise. That realisation tore at what was left of his heart.

He felt his eyes well up with tears as he came across the body of Colin Creevey. Sure, he had been annoying, but he didn’t deserve this. No one deserved this…

Draco kept on walking; the battle was still going on with full force. He was blocking and shooting hexes at every turn, as he made his way through the destruction.

Several moments later, and Draco stopped in his tracks, before him lay the body of Jerry. Big mouth Jerry. Draco let out a cry as he fell to his knees, holding his body close. Too many innocents had been lost to a war with no biases. He was so young, so, so young. 

Draco let go of the body as two warm hands wrapped him into a strong embrace. “It’s okay. It’s okay.” The loving voice of Mrs Weasley repeated over and over soothingly.

He turned around, sobbing into her shoulder. It hurt so much. Jerry may have gotten under Draco’s skin, but he was just a boy. He was a Hufflepuff. He was _his_ Hufflepuff.

“Everything’s going to be alright, dear one.” She reassured as he pulled himself from her embrace.

He gave her an embarrassed look, “I’m sorry for breaking down like that.” He apologised authentically.

She shook her head viciously. “Don’t you _dare_ apologise for grieving.” She crossed her hands over her chest, her gaze hot.

Draco nodded and she smiled giving him a light slap on the arm. “We’ve been worried about you, young man.” She chastised him. “Going back home like that instead of following the others and coming to us.”

He couldn’t speak. The Weasley’s felt that strongly about him? He didn’t know. He never would have guessed.

“But how can you say that, after everything I’ve done?” he whispered.

She narrowed her eyes and growled. “After what you’ve done? Do you mean apologising and making amends with all you’ve wronged. Do you mean helping and loving innocent little Hufflepuff’s who idolise you? Do you mean making portkey’s for all at risk Muggleborn’s as well as _my_ son and his dear friends in order to protect them. Or do you mean risking your life to bring food and blankets to prisoner’s in attempt to keep them alive? I. Know. It. All!” she lifted her chin up defiantly.

Draco opened his mouth to object but was cut off by a sharp glare. “If you’re going to give me some rubbish about letting Death Eater’s into Hogwarts, then please be quiet. You didn’t have a choice in the matter. But with what you did have a choice in, you chose to be good. That speaks volumes.” 

Draco felt a tear roll down his cheek. “Thank you.” He whispered quietly.

Mrs Weasley shook her head, pulling him in for another hug. “No, thank _you_ , for all that you have done. And for saving my son. You will always be welcome in our home. You’re a part of us now, you’re stuck with us for the long run.” She said authentically, squeezing him that little bit tighter.

After several moments, a painful hissing rung through his ears. _You’ve let your friends die for you Potter. It’s time for you to face me, do so, and no more blood will be shed tonight. Fail, and I will kill everybody whom you love. Starting with a little blonde-haired blood traitor. His blood will be on your hands._

Draco abruptly pulled from, her embrace. “I have too..” he started eyes wide with fear and determination.

“Go.” She whispered. “Go to him.”

He nodded, before turning on his heel running through the mass of people. He felt all eyes on him, but he didn’t care. He needed to find Potter.

Suddenly, he stopped in his tracks, coming face to face with the last person he wanted to see. With someone he hated even more than he hated the Dark Lord. With the woman who killed Kat.

His aunt laughed manically, “is poor likkle Draco looking for his precious Potter? You’ve been a bad, bad boy.” She reprimanded, pointing her wand him in a threatening stance.

Quickly, he pulled his wand own, his body slowly filling with anger and resentment. “Get out of my way.” He ordered.

He had to stay calm. He had to get to Potter. After he knew that Potter was safe, he’d deal with her. He’d deal with her so good.

She cackled, “That wouldn’t be very smart now, would it?” she bit out. “I’m going to deliver your traitorous body to the Dark Lord.” She admitted with glee.

“Over my dead body.” He hissed.

He’d had enough. That crazy, demented, psychotic bitch had taken everything from him. His best friend. His future. His fucking freedom. She would not take his life either. That wasn’t hers to take. He wouldn’t let her.

Draco looked up at her defiantly and her eyes widened with acknowledgement. “Oh, this will be fun.” She squealed firing the first spell.

So, it began. 

Dark on light. Aunt on Nephew. Blood on Blood. Spell after spell was fired, spell after spell Draco blocked. Sweat was pouring down his forehead, his breath coming out in pants. He didn’t know how much more he could take.

He felt tired, worn. He’d been fighting for so long. It had been so, so long. It would be easy just to give up. To admit defeat. But he wouldn’t. He’d come so far; he wouldn’t stop now. Not when he was so close.

He wasn’t just fighting for himself. He was fighting for the lives she’d ruined, for the lives she’d yet to ruin. For the lives she’d taken. For Kat…

With a newfound strength, Draco screamed putting up the sturdiest shield charm he had ever known, channelling all that he had into his flow of magic. The crucio that his aunt had just been firing, rebounded as she fell to the ground clutching her stomach in agony.

Draco felt a sick smile of satisfaction curl onto his features as he raised his wand, intent on finishing the job.

“Stop!” A voice yelled, and Draco turned to face no other than Neville Longbottom. His face was bloody, his clothes were ripped and torn.

Longbottom took a deep breath. “I can see it in your eyes, you know.” He said knowingly.

Draco raised an eyebrow, “see what?” he questioned.

“She’s done something to you. Taken someone from you. Someone you loved.” He stated gently and Draco felt tears start to form in the crests of his eyes. “I should know, it’s the same look that I see every time I look at myself in the mirror.” He admitted quietly.

Tears were running freely down Draco’s face. “I’m sorry.” He offered Longbottom, no, _Neville_.

Neville nodded. “I understand why you want to do it. Believe me I do. But please think about what you’re doing. If you can stand to look at yourself, knowing that you’ve been tainted. Knowing that you’ve taken a life. Then do it. I wouldn’t stop you. If I were a different man, I know I would do it myself.” He started and Draco froze.

He carried on, “But if you can’t, then don’t. I wouldn’t judge you either way. I understand. Believe me, I do. I’ll stand with you no matter what you decide.” He shook Draco’s hand standing next to him so they were side by side.

Draco turned to face the bloodied body that was his aunt, he took a deep breath. “I’m already tainted.” He growled out defiantly.

_Avada Kedavra_.

He watched with no regret as the light left his aunt’s eyes. That bitch had killed his best friend.  
….

Draco made his way through the castle, half-running, half-sprinting. He hoped he wasn’t late. He couldn’t be.

He came to a stop as his eyes fell on Weasley and Hermione, they were both sitting on the Grand stairs, they both looked defeated.

Hesitantly, Draco made his way towards them. He shook his head frantically. He refused to believe that anything had happened. He would know. He would _know_. He still had hope.

As he opened his mouth to comfort his friends, he felt his heart shatter. The warmth, the comfort, that he had been submerged with was gone. The feeling that protected him, that kept him safe had disappeared.

Draco started to pale. He couldn’t move. He couldn’t speak. He couldn’t breathe. He wanted it to stop. He couldn’t take it. He couldn’t _take_ it. Please, make it stop. Somebody make it stop.

The room was spinning, his head was pulsing. The blood running through his veins was cold as ice, the magic thrumming through his core stilled. He’d never felt anything like it, it was as if all his strength, all his magic, was slowly leaving his body.

Broken, he collapsed onto the floor and was quickly engulfed into the tight heat of Hermione’s arms. He started to sob, big, painful tears were running down his cheeks, showing no sign of stopping.

Something was wrong. Something had gone terribly wrong. He knew it, deep within his gut. It was over. It was all over.

“I can’t feel it.” he cried out hysterically, his whole body shaking in pure despair. “I can’t feel it.” he screamed as Weasley but a comforting hand on his shoulder, his own face stained with tears.

Draco howled, rocking back and forth, not knowing what to do with himself. Not knowing how to deal with the pain. “He’s gone. He’s gone.” He sobbed out as he desperately clutched the ring that hung round his neck.

The ring had gone cold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh so the fic's coming to an end. I think there's around four chapters left including an epilogue. I couldn't kill Fred :( The fic was already far too angsty. I based the harry love scene of a tumblr post, I'll try to like the prompt down below


	13. Chapter Thirteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the slightly later update! Another update will be posted either later on today or tomorrow morning :)

Potter was dead.

It was quiet. It was all so quiet; you couldn’t even hear a pin drop. The air was dusty, filled with a thick layer of melancholy. Draco had never truly understood what it meant to see everything in grey, he couldn’t comprehend how one could cease to see colour. He understood now. He wished that he didn’t, but he did.

He’d taken it all for granted. The way the birds chirped in the sky signalling the beginnings of a new day. How the sky was blue, full of endless possibilities. The green of the grass, the array of colour that the flowers reflected, symbolising all that was beautiful. Now it was different. There were no birds, the sky was clouded, the flowers had lost their beauty; it was grey, it was _all_ grey.

There’d been so many times where he was sure that he was ready to give up. He knew the feeling; he knew it all too well. When he was just waiting. Waiting to get home, to get to his room, close the door, fall onto bed, and just let out all that he’d been keeping in. The feeling of both relief and pure desperation. Where nothing was wrong, but nothing was right either. When he’s tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing. Just wanting someone to be there and tell him that it was okay. 

But no one was there. And he _knew_ that he had to stay strong because no one could fix him. But he was tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix himself and everyone else. Tired of being strong. And for once, he’d just want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be _saved_. But he wouldn’t be. And he’d still be wishing. And he’d still be staying strong, with tears in his eyes. He was _still_ fighting. Because he had hope.

He had hope that he was strong. He had hope that everything would be okay. He had hope to carry on. He had hope in life. He had hope in _Potter_.

Having hope was the ability to still see the light, despite being surrounded by darkness. 

But what happened when there was no hope left? What happened when the light burned out? There would be darkness, only darkness. And Draco was engulfed in it.

Hope was the only thing stronger than fear. And if there’s no hope, then there’s only fear. And if there was only fear, then there was no reason to fight. And if there was no reason to fight, then it was over. And if it was over, then he had lost.

And he _had_ lost. They’d all lost. It was over, it was all over because Potter was dead.

He’d once thought that life wasn’t about avoiding the bruises, but maybe it was collecting the scars to prove he’d shown up for it.

He now realised how naïve he’d been. That wasn’t the truth. Not anymore. Because the scars were permanent. A mark engraved onto his skin to remind him why the bruises had been there in the first place. To remind him of all that he had lost, and all that could’ve been.

Scars weren’t marks of a survivor; they were the mark of a man who’d forgotten how to live.

Tears fell swiftly down his cheeks, as he watched Hagrid pull the broken body of Harry Potter closer. That was his hope. Who he’d been fighting for. Who had his heart. Gone. Harry was gone.

“Harry Potter is _dead_!” the Dark Lord declared victoriously, and Draco closed his eyes as he felt his heart shatter. Hearing it was one thing, seeing it made it real, and feeling it… well that broke him.

Draco breathed in a sharp, terrified breath. The Dark Lord was smirking at him, his arms opening in welcome. He was preaching about forgiveness, how the death of Harry Potter had guaranteed the survival of Draco. How Potter had died so that Draco could live.

He kept his gaze firmly fixed onto the ground below, his father was urging him to join them. He wouldn’t go. He’d never join the Dark Lord’s side. Not after what he does. After what he had done.

“Draco,” his mother spoke softly and Draco eye’s snapped up immediately. It was the first time his mother had spoken to him in over a year. His mother, his beautiful, brave, compassionate mummy. “Come.” She whispered, nodding her head warmly.

Draco broke down. He felt so broken. So, defeated. Potter was gone. His mother had tears in her eyes. She was looking at him as if he would break, love alive in her eyes. She had been the one who’d held him when he’d cried. Who’d picked him up when he’d fallen. Who told him that she loved him every night before bed. His mother, who he loved more than anyone else on this world.

He stayed silent. A silence that meant that he was tired of fighting, now that there wasn’t anything left to fight for. His silence meant that he was tired of his feelings, not wanting to feel them anymore. His silence meant that he was ready to adapt. His silence meant that he had chosen. 

The ring pulsed.

And in that moment he realised that hope wasn’t just something to have in one person. It was something that he needed to have within himself. And he had hope. He _believed_.

With shaky hands he opened his arms, in hopes that his mother would join him. He would _not_ go over to the Dark Lord’s side. He would _not_ cowardly leave the battle. Part of giving up was accepting that it was okay to start again. Opening his arms meant staying true to himself, to what he believed in, to _who_ he believed in. If there was no one left to fight for, then he’d make something to fight for. He’d been naïve. There was _always_ something to fight for. And right now, Draco was fighting for himself. He’d finally chosen himself.

His mother’s eyes shone with tears as she ignored the gasps and shrills, nestling herself in Draco’s warm open arms. He hugged her tightly, despite everything he was safe. It was him and his mother against the world. 

Suddenly, Potter jumped from Hagrid’s arms, a defiant glint residing in his eyes. Draco gasped, overwhelmed with feeling. But it was… impossible. It couldn’t be true. He must be seeing things. He blinked a few times. No, Potter was still there, as alive as he’d been when he’d last saw him.

When Potter had said that he’d _loved_ him…

With all the strength that he could possibly muster, Draco held his wand up high, looking Potter straight into his blazing green eyes. Potter gave him a small smile, one that he knew was only reserved for him. A silent smile, one that said so little, but meant so much. It was all Draco needed. He nodded his head, and Potter fired the first hex.

The battle continued.

….

The Dark Lord was dead.

The rest of the battle had taken place with thankfully minimal losses. It was if Potter’s fantastical emergence when times had looked bleak, had given the light a newfound strength. Everyone was more determined than ever, hurtling hexes, shooting jinxes, and throwing curses like there was no tomorrow. Draco muses that if the Dark had won, then there wouldn’t have been much point in tomorrow.

Tomorrow was like a promise. A beacon of hope that swore to be better than today. It was something to want, to need, to fight for. Wizarding kind had spent years turning against one another, judging by the purity of ones blood, when in reality, they should’ve been worrying about the quantity of ones heart. 

But now they’d been offered the possibility of doing things differently. To become wiser, better, stronger. Life had given them a second chance, and it was called _tomorrow_. 

Draco wasn’t giving that up for anything.

The battle had drawn to a close the moment Potter had struck down the Dark Lord with the help of a backfired _expelliarmus_ spell. It was laughable really. Trust Potter to defeat one of the Darkest men of all time using nothing more than a bloody disarming spell. 

He’d felt it the second the Dark Lord had succumbed to the darkness. The dark mark had let out a tiny surge of power, it was miniscule, but the shock was indeed noticeable. It was almost poetic, a mark destined to radiate an abundance of power, reduced to nothing at it’s Lord’s demise. 

As the dark mark’s shock flowed through him, the first thing that Draco felt had been relief. It was over. It was really over. He truly couldn’t explain how it felt. To not have anyone tell you who to be. To feel a weight be lifted from your shoulders. To be free. It wasn’t an illusion, no, he was really free. He. Was. Free.

So, he’d done the only thing he could’ve in that moment. He’d smiled. One that wasn’t forced or manipulated. A genuine, heartfelt smile which said all that he couldn’t express. 

The first thing he’d done was run to his mother, tears running down his face as he pulled her close, them both sinking to the floor with both relief and disbelief. They’d cried and they’d howled, seeking comfort in the others embrace. It was as if he were a little boy once again, seeking refuge in his mother’s safety. And he did feel it. He felt safe.

A cautious cough pulled his thoughts from his mother’s safety, as he glanced up and into the repentant eyes of his father. Part of Draco wanted to shake his head, to tell his father that he hadn’t forgiven him. That he may never forgive him.

But he didn’t.

He couldn’t. He knew deep down that his father loved him. That he wanted nothing but the best for him, despite the twisted way in which he showed that. He’d been so close to loosing everything. He _had_ lost almost everything. So, he’d realised that with what he did have, he had to cling onto and never let go. And he had his father. He would _always_ have his father.

So, Draco done the only thing he could do. He’d made the only choice that he could’ve made. He’d held out his hand. One that his father had taken as Draco pulled him into a strong embrace. He didn’t know how long they’d stayed like that, tangled in one another, but he’d found that he couldn’t bring himself to care.

He’d forgiven his father. There had been no other option. Forgiveness wasn’t the trait of the weak, but an attribute of the strong. Draco had been given a chance, one to create a new beginning. And forgiveness, he mused, that was the only way that he’d truly be free.

“Draco?” at tentative voice asked and Draco forced himself out of his parents embrace as he looked up into the hesitant eyes of Harry Potter. 

Potter was leaning on one foot, his face was bloody, his shirt torn exposing a trail of cuts and bruises. Despite the obvious pain that Potter was in, he was smiling, his eye twinkled with a freedom that Draco craved to see more of. 

“Can we talk?” Potter pleaded and Draco found himself turning to his father. It was astonishing really, that his father’s approval still meant so much. He held his breath as his father raised a brow, giving him a concerned look. His father looked as if to be in deep internal debate as he turned to his mother who gave his hand a reassuring squeezed.

Several moments later, and his father turned back to Draco giving him a curt nod. Draco breathed a sigh of relief, as he smiled his father before standing up and turning to Potter. He gave Potter a nod similar to that of his father’s as he followed him out of the Great Hall, and away from his parents.

As Draco followed Potter out of the hall, making the first free decision he had in ages, he heard his mother whisper quietly to his father. “I know that was hard Lucius, but part of being a parent is being strong enough to give your child the wings to let them fly.”

She said encouragingly.

“But what if he falls?” his father asked fearfully.

He could hear his mother’s smile through her voice, “then we’ll be there to catch him.” she reassured him. Draco let out a deep breath, and for the first time, he truly believed that everything was going to be okay.

….

“You’re alive.” he whispered almost disbelievingly to Potter as they entered an abandoned classroom. Draco didn’t know what to feel. His emotions were all over the place. They were _both_ alive. He hadn’t planned for this.

Potter nodded; his eyes wide. “I’m alive.” he reassured Draco stepping closer towards him, and his stomach started to churn. “So are you. Oh, Draco I was so scared. I was terrified that you wasn’t going to make it. That I wasn’t going to make it. But we’re here. We’re alive.” he sighed out in pure relief.

What could he possibly say to that? It was raw, vulnerable, loving, and Draco could say absolutely nothing. He wanted to say something. _Anything_. But he couldn’t find the words. He could see it in Potter’s eyes, he could see the love that shone deeply within them. Potter loved him, there was no doubt about it. And Draco… well he didn’t know how the _fuck_ he felt.

“What are you thinking about?” Potter asked in a slightly worried tone. “I _know_ that you’re thinking. Your nose twitches uncontrollably whenever you’re in deep thought.” 

He knew one of his tells! He fucking _knew_ that Draco’s nose twitched whenever he was thinking. Draco didn’t know anything. He had no bloody clue. He didn’t know what made Potter happy. He didn’t know what made him sad. He didn’t know the names of his parents or what his childhood was like. He didn’t know why he liked Draco. Or even why Draco bloody liked him. He didn’t know a thing!

Draco took a step back, distancing himself from Potter. “I don’t know.” He chocked out, suddenly feeling extremely hot. “I don’t fucking know anything anymore.” He admitted, feeling more confused than ever. 

Potter took a step towards him shaking his head, “what don’t you know?” he asked softly, his voice laced with concern.

Well, if he knew that then he would’ve said. What part of ‘I don’t know’ didn’t Potter understand? Draco raked a hand through his messy hair, “I just don’t know. I really don’t know.” He admitted, a hint of hysteria in his tone.

“You have to help me out here Draco.” Potter sighed in frustration. “You have to give me something else. Something more.” He urged almost pleadingly.

What did he want him to say? What the _fuck_ did he want him to say? The war was over. It was bloody over. It wasn’t meant to be like this. Draco was meant to be happy; everything was meant to make sense. So, then why was everything still so confusing? Why wasn’t it all just simple?

Draco shook his head, “what do you want from me?” he asked, nearly begging as he stared into hurt green eyes.

Potter took another step towards him, “I want you to talk to me. I want you to tell me what’s wrong. I want to help.” He said honestly.

“You want to help?” Draco bit out unkindly. He felt his cheeks start to heat up, he wanted to make Potter understand. Somehow, he _needed_ Potter to understand. “You can’t bloody help. No one can help.” He spat out deliriously. 

“I can help. I promise you that I can help. Just tell me what’s wrong and we can figure this out _together_.”

That was it! He couldn’t take it anymore. He was sick of feeling like this. He was sick of being so confused. It had to stop. He wanted it all to stop. “Together? There is no together.” He shouted at a silenced Potter. “Don’t you see? Can’t you see? I can’t remember. I can’t fucking remember.” He cried out, tears forming at the crests of his eyes.

Potter let out a frustrated breath, “I know you can’t remember, but I don’t care. I’ll never care. I love you to much to care. None of it matters. Nothing matters, the only thing that matter is that I have you.” He admitted as he attempted to take Draco’s hand in his.

Draco pulled away, “But I _care_.” he snapped, willing with all his strength for Potter to understand him. “You don’t know how it feels. You don’t know how it _fucking_ feels.” He cried out in complete despair.

“Then tell me. Please just talk to me.” Potter begged through his own tears.

“It feels like I’m barely alive, as if I’m in between existence and death.” He started, tears spilling down his cheeks. “I look at you and I feel so much. I have all these fucking feelings that I don’t remember ever developing. I’ve always known you as my arch nemesis, as the guy who rejected me all these years ago. But now that’s different. You’re still my enemy, but ever since the beginning of seventh year, you’ve meant more to me than anyone else ever has.” He admitted.

Potter opened his mouth to speak, but Draco abruptly cut him off. “And it’s hard. It’s so bloody hard. To feel so much for someone but not remember how you fell.” He finished.

“What are you saying?” Potter hesitantly asked.

Draco wanted to scream. How was Potter still not getting it? Was Draco being that unclear? 

He took a deep breath, “I don’t know. I seriously don’t know anymore.” He attempted to walk away, but Potter caught his arm, bring Draco closer towards him.

Potter looked up at him intently, vulnerability lacing his feature. “Then look at me.” He started, and Draco on reflex looked into his eyes. “Look at me and tell me that you don’t have feelings for me. Tell me that you don’t _love_ me.” He begged and Draco could hear the finality in his tone.

It was as if it had all come down to what he would say next. As if, his next few words were to be the decider. Draco was scared. He was afraid that he was going to mess up. So, he said the first thing that came to his mind. He couldn’t think, he just had to act.

“I can’t do that.” He breathed out and realised for the first time that it was true. That what he felt was real. It was so fucking real. But as he stared into Potter’s loving gaze, he thought himself an idiot for every doubting that.

Potter gave him a hopeful smile, “then there’s nothing to worry about. Nothing else matters except how we feel about each other.” He said with reassurance.

Draco pulled away from Potter, shaking his head violently. “Can’t you see that’s the problem? I _love_ you. I fucking love you so much, but I hate you. I still hate you.” He threw his hands into the air in frustration, pacing in front of Potter.

“I went from hating your existence to being in love with you. How does that bloody work? I love you, but I still hate you. I still see you as my arch nemesis. I hate that you rejected my hand all those years ago. I hate the attention that you get. I hate that you played a role in my father’s imprisonment in Azkaban. I hate how you laughed at me, how you taunted me, how you called me names.” He admitted, getting it all off his chest.

He took a deep breath, “and most of all, I hate how much I love you. And I hate myself because I don’t know why. I can’t remember why I love you, and that hurts more than you can imagine.” A single tear rolled down his cheek, and he felt truly powerless.

Potter entwined their fingers together and looked up at Draco defiantly. “There’s not much I can say to that except that I remember. Oh Merlin, do I remember. And I can promise you now, that what we had is worth fighting for. I wasn’t lying when I told you that you were it for me Draco Malfoy.” He said intently.

And with those few words, Potter had given him _everything_. He had given him acceptance, hope, love. He had said all that Draco was too scared to admit, but what he desperately wanted to hear. So, he took a deep breath, and gave Potter what he deserved. The truth.

“I’m a mess.” Draco pointed out. “I need time to find myself. To understand myself. To accept who I am without my memoires.”

Potter pulled him into an embrace, “I love you. I’m so in love with you, I can’t even think about being with anyone else. You’ve ruined me. Nothing you do or say will ever change the fact that I’ll only ever want to be with you.” He promised.

He felt his eyes swell with tears for the seventh time. He wanted it with Potter. He wanted to have it all with Potter. He knew how he felt. He was definite that he wouldn’t feel like this unless what he had with Potter was the real thing. But that wasn’t enough. He felt as if a part of him was missing, and he wouldn’t be able to fully give himself to Potter without finding it.

Draco looked up and gathered all the strength he had left. “Then wait for me.” He urged Potter. “I know what we have is real. I can feel it. I don’t think that I could live the rest of my life with anyone else who wasn’t you. But we can’t be together. Not yet. Not like this.” He finally admitted, because it was true.

The love he felt for Potter was so intense he had no idea how he’d ever come to feel it. He may never remember how he’d come to feel it. But before he gave himself wholly to Potter, he had to understand _why_ he felt it. And that was something he had to do on his own.

He decided that time could pass. People could leave. Memories could be forgotten. But feelings, those were something that the heart could _never_ forget.

“What do we do now?” Potter asked hesitantly.

Draco shifted closer towards him, submerging himself in Potter’s heat. “Just hold me.” He whispered desperately, and Potter obliged, holding him closer and tighter than he ever had before, as if he never wanted to let go. Draco felt a tear fall down his cheek as he realised that he never wanted to let go either.

….

Draco stood uncomfortably outside a quaint three storey home situated in muggle London. The war had ended three weeks ago, and Draco had been acquitted of all charges held against him. His trial had been a well-documented event, with many commoners attending, all hoping to see the Malfoy heir shut away in Azkaban for life.

The trial hadn’t exactly gone in the direction that they were hoping. Many had testified on Draco’s behalf; he had been amazed to see the amount of people who had showed up to support him. Some students that had attended Hogwarts during his seventh year had testified in favour of him claiming that he had saved them from the Carrows torture, by pretending to crucio them. They had even commented on how he’d helped them all hide from the Carrows at times when they had been most vulnerable.

Mr and Mrs Weasley had also to his surprise testified on his behalf, claiming that he was one of the most beautiful souls that they had ever come across. Mr Weasley had told the court about his fascination with muggle technology, stating that a heartless Death Eater wouldn’t dare be so obsessed with muggle things. He’d even brought the toasterer as evidence. Mrs Weasley had further commented on his actions during the final battle, disclosing the moment they’d had together as well as times he’d fought for the light. After they’d finished their testimonies, they’d both sent him warm, loving smiles which he greatly appreciated.

Luna, Ollivander, and Dean had testified about the months they spent at the manor and how Draco never failed to sneak in food, water, and blankets that had essentially saved their lives. Ollivander also described how Draco would teach prisoners how to successfully fake being hit with a crucio, on their first night at the manor. Whilst Luna spoke about how he would always keep prisoners company well into the night, something he didn’t have to do and could’ve been killed for.

Neville had revealed Draco’s killing of the renowned Death Eater Bellatrix Lestrange, slightly exaggerating that Draco’s actions had saved his life.

The now Hufflepuff second years had stormed the courtroom, their ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ badges proudly on display and had testified that Draco was the best Slytherin in the world. They’d spoken about how he’d guided and cared for them when nobody else had. Piggy had even commented on how he’d saved her life during the final battle. They’d ended their testimony threatening that if anything were to happen to Draco, their friendly butterflies, wouldn’t be so friendly anymore.

They had been promptly escorted from the courtroom after that. Draco smiled slightly at that; he loved his Hufflepuff’s.

Weasley and Hermione had took the stand proudly, both testifying in favour of Draco. They claimed that even though Draco had unwillingly let Death Eater’s into Hogwarts, he’d made portkey’s for not only all the at risk muggleborns, but for themselves and Potter so that they could escape. Hermione had even gone as far as to disclose the events that had happened at the manor and how Draco had protected her by taking the crucio curse himself. They had both concluded stating that he was one of their closest friends and life in Azkaban would be an inhumane charge for someone who had saved so many.

Potter had been the last one to take the stand, much to the surprise and dismay of the Wizengamot. He had spoken loudly and with pride as he told all on the nature of his relationship to Draco. He claimed that Draco had been the only thing to keep him going during his fight against the Dark Lord. He provided evidence that he was not under the influence of a love potion or the Imperius Curse. He finished stating that he would never love anyone who wasn’t worthy of his love, and Draco was worthy of the world.

The vote had been unanimous, with every single member of the Wizengamot voting in Draco’s favour. Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt had proudly declared Draco free from all charges, stating that a hero shouldn’t have been on trial in the first place.  
The courtroom broke out in celebration, and Draco’s heart had clenched with relief. It was over. It was all over. He had looked up into the crowd of smiling faces only for his eyes to settle on Potter. Because of course, it was always Potter. They had shared a smile that was only reserved for the two of them, and for the first time, Draco felt as if the future was bright.

The story of Draco’s hearing had been on the front page of the Daily Prophet that morning. They’d deemed him the ‘unexpected hero who had protected them all’. They’d also regarded his relationship with Potter as the great love affair that had saved the wizarding world. He had been blow away with that response, he wasn’t a hero, he was just a man trying to do the right thing. 

His father’s trial had gone better than he’d expected. Draco was certain that his positive publicity had resulted in the outcome. His father had been sentenced to a year in Azkaban as well as been forced to pay a large sum of reparations. His father had been less than happy, but Draco was ecstatic. His father would be free in a year and the reparations had hardly put a dent in the Malfoy fortune.

Surprisingly, Potter had testified on his mother’s behalf, stating that she had saved him that night in the forest. Draco didn’t exactly know how, but he was proud that his mother had stood up for herself, and it was the love in her heart that had gotten her acquitted.

He hadn’t seen or spoken to Potter since the day of his trial. It was better like that. Potter was the Saviour of the Wizarding World; the press were following him even more than they had been Draco. Besides, his life now consisted of running from the press, hiding away from the manor, and fixing his atrocious hair which had been completely ruined during the war.

Seriously, his hair was a literal dump upon his head. He instinctively raked a hand through his locks. They were better. But not good enough. His haircastrophe had been quite alright during the war, it had given him the broken soldier kind of look. But the war was over. All he wanted was a prestige, ‘my hair’s better than yours’ look. Was that too much to ask?

Anyways, the past three weeks had given him time to think, to understand and accept himself. He was still a long way off, he shifted slightly as he raised his hand to knock on the door before him, but he hoped that what he was going to do today would bring him one step closer to happiness. After all, the closer he was to salvation, the closer he would be to getting Potter back. And he wanted Potter so much.

He knocked the door three times anxiously, dread pooling in the pits of his stomach. A ghost like woman opened the door. Her face was pale, her once presumably thick, brown hair was thin and matted. Her eyes were hollow with dark grey bags lining them. She looked broken. She looked defeated.

Draco took a deep breath, “Ms Pritchett?” he asked hesitantly. His mind whirling with anticipation, as he feared for what he was about to do.

She gave him a curt nod. “Yes.” She answered simply, with a hint of suspicion. “May I ask why you’re here?” she questioned. Her voice was tired, and Draco’s heart broke for her.

With all the strength that he could muster, Draco took a small step forwards. “I have some news regarding the whereabouts of your daughter. May I please come in?” he choked out, willing himself to remain clam and strong.

He didn’t want to do this. He wanted to carry on pretending that it was all a dream. That it had never happened. But he couldn’t do that. This was a nightmare, and the only option was to face it and wake up. And Draco wanted to wake up so desperately.

Ms Pritchett stepped aside and he entered the house. He figured that it would have been homely even just a few weeks ago. Now it just seemed melancholic. The lights were dim, dust lined the floors. The white walls appeared grey, and the air was stale and old.  
“Kat?” she questioned intently, an essence of hope dusting her tone, and Draco broke for a second time that day.

He nodded. Tears sliding down his cheeks as he looked at the broken face of a woman hoping that her child was alright. That her child was _alive_. “I’m _sorry_.” He cried out, as he wished that he were somewhere else. Anywhere but here.

Ms Pritchett took a step back, collapsing into an armchair. Her face was red, her eyes were puffy with tears. She looked to be in a state of disbelief. “No. I don’t believe you. It can’t be true. It _can’t_.” she spat out hysterically.

Draco nodded his head for a second time. “I’m sorry, I—

“NO!” she screamed abruptly standing up and walking up to him in threat. “Don’t you dare come into _my_ house and tell me that my daughter’s dead. How could you lie about something like this? I don’t even know you. I don’t fucking know you.” She murmured the last part desperately. In complete denial, pleading for a way for this all to be just a dream. Draco wished with all his heart that it were.

He took a shaky breath, “I’m Draco Malfoy and I—

Something changed.

Her eyes widened, glistening with something other than desperation, something that looked a lot like acceptance. “Take me to her. Take me to my little girl.” She asked in defeat and all Draco could do is oblige as he held out a hand to take them both to a place he’d never wanted to go back to.

….

It had been almost a month since he’d been back there. Since he’d been to Kat’s grave. He knew that it was weak, that it was wrong on his part. But he just couldn’t bring himself to. He’d thought about it many a times, he’d even gone as far as to make it to the door of the Malfoy grounds. But he’d always receded, wanting it to stay a dream just a little while longer had always won in the end.

As he stood behind a grieving mother, he realised that he had been selfish. He hadn’t just lost a best friend; a mother had lost a daughter. And his actions had resulted in her struggle going on for that just little bit longer. If anything were to happen to him, he wouldn’t want his death to be withheld from his mother. So, who was he to have done that to somebody else?

Well, not anymore. He needed to do better. He needed to be stronger. He had to offer Ms Pritchett the closure that he’d gotten almost a month ago. He had to say goodbye.

Draco gulped. “You can take her if you want. You can have a proper burial, with family and friends—

“No.” she said abruptly as she stood up to face him. Draco looked up baffled, as he stared into defiant eyes. “She will stay here. With you.” She said determinedly.

He shook his head profusely because it wasn’t meant to be this way. He didn’t deserve to have Kat here. She needed to be at home. She needed to be with her family. Not with him. Not with the man who had gotten her killed.

“But it’s my fault. It’s all my fault.” He choked out through tears, as he was engulfed into Ms Pritchett’s strong arms. 

She pulled him close, “It’s not your fault sweet child.” She murmured soothingly into his ear. “You saved her.” she whispered in pure amazement.

Draco pulled back hastily, barely comprehending what he was hearing. He saved her? No, he had killed her. He was the reason that she was dead. She’d still be alive if it weren’t for him. His best friend would still be here to make him happy.

“I didn’t, I’m the reason. It was me. It was all me.” He cried out in complete agony.

Ms Pritchett shook her head, taking a deep breath. “My daughter wasn’t always the beautiful, happy young girl that you knew her as.” She started. “She was heavily bullied at her old school. She was different. And the other kids didn’t like that.” She admitted quietly.

Draco’s breath hitched, he remembered Kat taking about some terrible kids a while back. He hadn’t fully understood her at the time, he never would’ve dreamed that she had meant this. How could anyone do this? Not to Kat. Not to sweet, innocent, little Kat.

“She would come home crying every day. She wouldn’t eat. She wouldn’t sleep. She was just walking around like a ghost. I honestly was scared for her life.” She said through tears, and Draco felt violently sick.

Her eyes glistened with happiness as she smiled. “And then she met you.” She gave him a thankful look, and Draco shook his head to oppose her. “She would write to me everyday about her new best friend. Someone who didn’t care that she was different. She spoke about your talks, she spoke about all the new friends you’d made for her, she spoke about you making her happy.” She brought Draco in for another hug.

She held him tightly as Draco shook violently with tears. He could bare understand it. He’d done this? He’d helped Kat? It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t. “You _saved_ her.” she whispered again. “For the first time in a long time I had my little girl back. So, thank you. Thank you for giving me back my daughter.” She said in pure gratitude, and it was Draco’s turn to pull the woman closer.

This was it. This was what his father had meant. This was closure. He knew that he’d never stop grieving. For grief was the price to pay for love. But he was healing. He’d never forget his best friend, but he’d heal. It was the only option.

Kat was his saving grace. She was the light in all the darkness that surrounded him. She’d taught him bravery. She’d taught him determination. She’d taught him love. She showed him how to be _happy_. 

Her mother said that he’d saved her, but that couldn’t have been further from the truth. Kat had saved _him_.

He nestled himself deeper into Ms Pritchett’s warmth as they grieved the little girl who had changed both their lives. Draco realised that he had taken a step. He had taken another step in accepting his true self. He was one step closer to Potter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I think there's only 3 chapters left including the epilogue. Hang on in there! Happiness is only a couple of chapters away :) :)


	14. Chapter Fourteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another chapter, as promised!

“But you’re miserable darling.” Pansy stated knowingly as they sat in the drawing room of the manor. A platter of tea, sandwiches and biscuits were sitting quietly between them.

It had been just over a month since the final battle, and this was the first time that Draco had interacted with anyone who wasn’t his mother or Ms Pritchett. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone, but he was really starting to become quite lonely.

In the few weeks since their first interaction, Draco and Ms Pritchett had become fast friends. She reminded him so much of Kat, and not just in physical attributes. No, it was clear that Kat’s kindness, optimism, and love had all been traits inherited from her mother.

It still surprised Draco to no end that Ms Pritchett was willing to befriend Draco, after the mess he’d gotten them into. But she had. In fact, she visit the manor at least three times a week without fail. They’d converse, laugh, and visit Kat’s grave, remembering all the beautiful things that she had represented. It was a friendship he’d never realised he’d needed but was so desperately thankful for having.

Draco narrowed his eyes at his friend, “I’m not miserable, I’m simply just detached.” He countered, secretly hating how pathetic that sounded.

She gave him the ‘ _are you really going to lie to me. Me?! Your best friend who’s known you before you knew how to go to the toilet without pissing yourself_.’ Look that she knew he hated with a vengeance.

“Detached my pearly white arsehole. Seriously Draco, it’s been a over a month and you haven’t left this depressing Manor.” She chided him gently.

He opened his mouth to object, but was abruptly cut off by a vicious glare, “and don’t you _dare_ give me some bullshit about seeing Ms Pritchett. She’s not the only person in the world, it’s unhealthy.” She stated firmly and Draco promptly shut up.

What the hell was he meant to say to that? So maybe, just maybe he was spending all his free time with Ms Pritchett. But what was wrong with that? They were simply bonding and helping each other to heal after a devastating loss.

“Can’t you see what’s going on here?” she asked, and Draco shook his head. Pansy took a deep breath, “You’re doing what you always do. You’re ignoring the problem hoping that it will go away.” 

Draco felt sick at the reality of her words. He reasoned that there may be a little truth to what she was saying, but still, he shot her a defiant look. “And pray tell, what problem may that be?” he asked, whilst subtly trying the appear to have minimal interest in the subject.

She scoffed, “don’t act dumb with me Draco Malfoy. I’m not one of your little Hufflepuff’s who blindly believe all that you tell them.” She warned.

He shrugged. “Maybe they believe everything I tell them because I’m always right.” he winced hating what he’d said the moment it had left his mouth. _Always right_? Really? 

Pansy reached over, picking up a triangular cucumber sandwich and stuffing it into her mouth. “You and I both know that’s not true.” She said through mouthfuls of crumbs.

Draco crossed his arms stubbornly, “I am not running, nor am I hiding, from any problems.” He told her again, because technically it was true.

“Not _problems_ Draco, just problem.” She chastised, glaring at him intently. “A Potter problem to be exact.” She finished with a knowing smirk.

Potter. Stupid Potter. With his stupid eyes and his stupid scar. Stupid, stupid Potter. So, _maybe_ Potter had been the one thing that he had avoided this last month. It wasn’t as if he were running or anything. He was just finding himself. And that took time.  
He sighed, “I have no problem with Potter.” He stated simply.

Pansy tutted. “I _know_ you’re not this dense Draco. I didn’t say that you had a problem with Potter. I vividly remember stating that Potter was your problem.” She huffed out in frustration.

“Well, I dismiss that as well.” He countered.

His best friend glared at him, before calmly, too calmly, picking up the empty tray and promptly banging it against her head repeatedly. Draco raised a brow in pure amusement, “and what do you think you’re doing?” he chuckled.

She hit her head for a final down before slamming it down ono the table. “I thought I’d at least preserve some of my dignity and kill myself, instead of letting you dreadful excuses kill me first.”

So that’s how she wanted to play it? Well, Draco wouldn’t stand for such disrespect in his own home. “My excuses are anything but dreadful.” He spat.

Pansy gave him an almost sympathetic look, “you’re right… they’re just pathetic.” She deadpanned and Draco wanted to strangle her.

He was just about to hurl a witty remark when she took a deep breath. “What’s going on with you Draco?” she asked in concern.

He honestly had no idea. He thought he’d needed time. He still thought that he needed time. But it was hard. It was really, really hard. He’d become a social recluse, and for what? To find himself? How was _this_ finding himself?

“I don’t know Pans,” he admitted, “I thought I needed time to sort out all these crazy feelings I have for Potter. But I’m not so sure anymore. I mean, do you know how hard it is to be in love with someone you can’t remember falling in love with?” he prompted.

Draco raked a hand through his hair, stopping her from answering. “Because I’ll tell you. It’s really fucking hard.” He spat out with an ounce of hysteria.

Pansy gave him a look full of pity, placing her hand atop of his in comfort. “I know that I’ll never be able to understand what you’re going through.” She started intently. “But what I _can_ tell you is how much happier you were with him.” she reassured.

He looked at hesitantly, “I was?” he whispered quietly, as if he was struggling to believe what she was saying.

She nodded. “You were. Oh god, Draco you were.” She gave his hand a little squeeze, “sixth year wasn’t the best for you, as you know. But every time you came back from your little nights with Potter, you were lighter. You’d be smiling ear to ear, and you were no longer the boy destined for misery. You were free.” Pansy stood up and pulled him into a tight hug.

“It was if I’d gotten my best friend back.” She admitted softly. 

Draco didn’t know what to think. It was the first time he’d actually heard what sixth year with Potter had been like. Sure, everyone had told him what he’d felt. Even Potter had told him how he’d felt. But no one had dare tell him how he’d acted. How it had impacted him.

It felt… nice. It felt needed.

Pansy pulled away after several moments and sat back down, she took a deep breath. “Then seventh year began and you were shadow of the person you had been around Potter. I tried mentioning him once..” she started and Draco’s breath hitched.

He remembered how that conversation had gone. Draco had been more frustrated than ever. He felt alone, abandoned, as if a chunk of him was missing but he hadn’t known what. Now he realised that that piece had been Potter, but back then he hadn’t known that.

He also couldn’t comprehend his sudden obsession with Potter. How he was drawn to Potter, or the sudden feelings he had for Potter. It was if they had come out of nowhere.

So, he’d snapped. He told Pansy to shut up and never utter Potter’s name whenever he was around. It was a moment that he was less than proud of.

“Well, we both know how that went.” She sighed. “Blaise and I were distraught. We knew you’d be upset about losing Potter, but we never would’ve dreamed that you’d act like that. It was if somehow you resented Potter more than you loved him.” she gave him a saddened look.

Pansy took his hand in hers for a second time, “we’d ask questions. Give subtle hints about things regarding Potter that only we’d know. You’d never fail to look at us as if we were crazy. Your face would remain blank every time.” She told him and Draco felt tears starting to prick his eyes.

“That’s how we knew. That’s when we _known_ something was terribly wrong. That’s how we knew that you still loved Potter, but somehow, you’d forgotten how you’d fallen in love with him.” Draco didn’t know what to say. How hadn’t he realised his friends had known this, that they’d felt like this?

She squeezed his hand painfully hard. “So, promise me Draco. Fucking promise me that if you still feel just a smidge of love for Potter, you’ll go to him and you’ll never look back.” She begged him. “We all dream about finding someone that’s made for us. Someone who doesn’t care what we look like. Someone who appreciates all our misgivings and faults. Someone who loves us unconditionally. You and Potter had that.” She gave him a weak smile.

Draco could do nothing but let the tears fall down his cheeks. He was awestruck. He realised that Potter hadn’t been his enemy. No, his biggest enemy had been himself.

Pansy let out a small tear. “If you truly want to be happy, you’ll grab Potter and never let him go.” She finished and he nodded.

He had a lot to think about.

….

It was the first time he’d been to Diagon Alley in months. After that talk with Pansy, Draco reasoned that he need to think. And a stuffy manor full of uncomfortable memories wasn’t the best place to do that.

Everyone was looking at him as he passed. He supposed that it was to be expected, no one had seen him since his trial. He didn’t so much mind the looks of love or admiration, he even didn’t mind the odd glare that he would receive. But, what he did mind, _were the damn prophet reporters that thought it was fun to invade his privacy._

_Flash. Flash. Flash._

“Can you describe the nature of your relationship with Harry Potter?”

_Flash. Flash. Flash._

“Were you Dumbledore’s spy all along?”

_Flash. Flash. Flash._

“Are you in love with Harry Potter like he claims to be in love with you?”

Draco wanted to hide. Whether or not he loved Harry Potter was none of their business. And what was even worse was they followed him _everywhere_. He couldn’t simply just walk away, for they’d be trailing right behind him. It was infuriating.

It also was taking everything he had in him not to snap. He had two minds not to grab their pathetic cameras and shove them up a place they’d never be found.

He was just about to advance on a reporter when a swarm of purple butterflies started attacking the reporters out of nowhere. It was hilarious. There were screams, shouts and cries. The butterflies were biting the reporters with a vengeance. They bashed and bumped into everything that was anything as they hastily made their escapes.

Draco chuckled, looking down at his miniature saviour. “And what exactly do we have here?” he teased.

Piggy looked up at him with wide eyes, full of determination. “They mess with you, then they mess with me.” She growled, waving her wand around in threat.

He’d said it one and he’ll say it again, who needed the Saviour of the Wizarding World, when Draco had a mob of angry little Hufflepuff’s?

“Well, I find that I must thank you for your help.” He smiled at her, “so, what an earth are you doing here all by yourself?” he asked as he attempted to give her a scathing look. Key word: attempted.

She glared at him and crossed her arms in defiance. “I’m _thirteen_ now Draco, I’m almost an adult. I can go where I like.” She argued.

Draco couldn’t help the smile that formed at the edges of his lips. “Thirteen!” he exaggerated. “Well, I guess that makes up for it.” he eyed her sceptically.

Had he been this naïve when he was thirteen? No, not at all. He was just a mean, manipulative, little boy. So… the classic thirteen-year-old.

“So, what are you doing here?” he asked as they made their way down the alley.

She gave him a beaming smile. “I’m picking up some supplies for a mass production of Draco Malfoy Pride badges.” She chirped merrily and Draco choked on the very air that he was breathing in.

Mass production of _what_? Oh, dear Merlin, he could see it now, the wizarding world completely overrun with Draco Malfoy prider’s, that was something he definitely didn’t want to see.

He let out a low cough, “are you sure that’s the best idea?” he asked hesitantly.

She growled at him. Like she _actually_ growled at him, as she pointed her wand at him accusingly. “Of course, it’s a good idea. We spoke to Kat’s mum,” she started, and they both winced at the name. “She told us what happened to Kat but also how happy was in the Draco Malfoy Pride.” She stated and Draco hung his head down in shame.

“So, we’ve decided that the Draco Malfoy Pride can be a group where everyone is accepted and loved. A group that is also led by the man who sacrificed everything so that we could live. The pride is somewhere where we can all be safe. I thought _you_ of all people would understand that.” She finished, as she shook her head at him.

Draco felt horrible. It truly sounded like a wonderful idea. From a group of Hufflepuff first years following him around as if he were some hero, the group had transformed into a sanctuary for all those who needed acceptance. Kat would’ve loved it.

He crouched down, pulling Piggy into a tight squeeze. “ _Thank you_.” He whispered into the crook of her neck.

She nodded slightly. “Don’t thank me. This is all because of you. You accepted us two years ago without a second glance. You let us follow you around, you let us laugh, you let us be a part of something bigger than ourselves. So, thank you.” She squeezed him just that little bit tighter.

They stayed like that for several seconds before slowly pulling away. “This is the craft shop.” She inclined her head slightly towards the store in front of them.

He nodded, “indeed it is.” He smiled gesturing for her to go inside.

She waved before walking towards the store. Moments before she was about to step inside, she stopped and turned towards him.

“I know what they’re saying about Potter is true.” She started and Draco was slightly shocked. “We all knew. Kat was the first to figure it out.” She slowly admitted. He winced, because _of course_ Kat did. She knew him better than anyone.

She gave him a hesitant smile, “if you still love him, then you should be with him. We all made you happy, but he made you the happiest.” She declared before turning on her heel and rushing into the store.

Draco took a few moments to come back to himself. Had they been that obvious? How was everyone else so sure about what he had with Potter, whilst he was more confused than ever?

He sighed, knowing one think for certain. He’d left the manor in an attempt to clear his head but will return with his thoughts more scrambled than ever before.

Somehow though, he didn’t mind all that much.

….

As soon as he got back to the manor, he felt tears start to form in the crests of his eyes. He was tired, he was so, so tired, and it was only midday.

He just wanted to know. He didn’t want to be baffled or confused. He didn’t want to spend endless days and nights antagonising over everything. He just wanted to understand. Was that too much to ask?

He ran through the manor, without a care of where he was going or who was going to see him. He needed this. He just needed to escape it all, just for a little while.

“Draco.” Came his mother’s concerned voice, and he realised that he had ended up in one of the manor’s many parlour’s. “Come here Dragon.” She urged gently, opening her arms wide in welcome.

He nodded, walking towards his mother, and launching himself into her strong arms. He’d missed this. It took him back to a time where his mother’s arms were the safest place in the world. They still were in a sense.

He felt raw, exposed, vulnerable. So, he cried. He shook violently in him mother’s arms, until his eyes became swollen from tears and his voice was hoarse because of the sobs.

“Shushhhh.” His mother whispered softly, “what do I always tell you Draconis Lucius Malfoy?” she asked expectantly. 

Draco shook his head, too upset to talk. He just wanted it to all go away. He just wanted it all to stop. Even if it were just for a little while.

His mother huffed in annoyance, “I _said_ what do I always tell you?” she repeated.

He sighed, pulling himself from her embrace, it was clear that she wasn’t going to relent. “You say, ‘it took me nine months to form your heart, don’t let someone break it in fifteen seconds’.” He repeated word for word, and his mother smiled in approval.

“That’s right.” she squeezed his hand tightly. “So please darling, tell me who’s broken the heart that I took so long to make.”

Was it terrible that he didn’t exactly want to tell her? It was embarrassing. That Draco Malfoy was caught up on the Chosen One. That loving Harry Potter had reduced him to nothing but a blabbering mess.

It was also all so insensitive of him. They’d all just fought a war, and instead of worrying about that or helping others move on. He had ostracised himself from society, in the hopes of spending all his days thinking about Potter. He was truly pathetic.

She raised a confident brow, “let me guess, does a Mr Potter have anything to do with your current predicament?” she questioned knowingly.

Defeated, Draco nodded. “I’m just so confused. So many of my friends are telling me all about this great and wonderful romance that I shared with Harry Potter. But I can’t remember any of it.” He looked up at his mother with pleading eyes, “how do I know my feelings are real if I don’t remember how I got them?” he asked.

His mother sighed, reaching out to grab his other arm. “I don’t think any of us can truly trust our feelings. But if they’re real, we’ll know.” 

She took a deep, wistful breath. “I remember the first time I knew that my love for your father was real.” Draco felt his stomach flip, not entirely sure he wanted to hear all about his parents love.

His mother narrowed her eyes at him. “I _know_ what you’re thinking, and you will listen to what I have to say, and you _will_ like it.” she bit out with finality.

Well, he guessed he was here for the long haul. Draco nodded, gesturing for his mother to continue.

“Thank you for your blessing.” She bit out sarcastically. She carried on, “You had just been born, and it was the happiest day of my life. The Healer had just handed you to your father and I watched how his eyes sparkled. He looked more beautiful than I’d ever seen him. He just looked down at you with so much admiration, with deep, unconditional love. And he smiled at me.” She smiled softly, “That’s when I knew.”

Draco felt warm all over. That little anecdote had meant more than he could ever express. It felt nice to hear how much his father loved him. There had been many a times where he questioned that. But hearing his mother express his father’s unconditional love made him feel accepted. Something he had always longed to feel where his father was concerned.

He looked up with hesitant eyes, taking a frail breath, “how will I know?” he asked quietly.

His mother gave him a knowing smile, “who’s to say that it hasn’t already happened? That you don’t already know?” she countered, and he gulped.

Her words stayed with him for a very long time after that.

….

Draco was so tired of thinking. What his mother had just told him had taken up so much of his thinking energy. It was all just making this whole thing harder. In fact, everyone who’d gotten involved had done nothing but make things more complicated for him.

Did anyone ever take a minute and just think: you know what, Draco already looks extremely confused, so let’s not confuse him anymore. No, let’s help him.

Well, obviously they didn’t. Oh no, they’d all made it their secret missions to baffle him to the point that there was no return. It was all extremely rude if you asked him.

He took a deep breath, deciding that at this point there was only one thing that he could do. The one and only thing that would bring him peace of mind.

So, with shaky fingers, he sat down, and he wrote.

_Potter,_   
_It’s been an absmayl amount of time since I’ve written to you. That’s been my fault. Well, there was the whole war conundrum going on. As well as the death of my best friend and you admitting your yearning love for me. Oh, and there’s the fact that I’ve lost my memories and can’t remember why I love you._   
_  
But, of course, it’s my fault._

_I’ve been a wreck. I’ve been a complete and utter wreck. There must have been something in my mind telling me not to fall for you all that time ago. Such a shame I can’t seem to remember it._

_I really can’t possibly describe how I’m feeling. Believe me, I’ve tried. It’s probably the worst thing in the world. Having something so close, but not being able to grab it. Losing my memories is a bit like that. There’s people telling me about them. There’s odd flashes I get during dreams or nightmares. They’ve even kindly left an imprint that consists of my love for you. They’ve left everything except answers._

_After not being in control for so long. After being treated like a puppet for most of my adolescent life. I just want to make a decision of my own making. Not one made by others who believe they have some sort of power over me. It’s all terribly degrading and baffling._

_All I know now is that I have to make a decision. It’s not fair on you and me for myself to continue this little game. But I want you to know, whatever I decide, that I do love you. In whatever way an emotionless Malfoy can love. I just wish more than anything that I can remember how._

_This is the last time I’ll be writing. I have to let go of the seventh-year broken saviour version of yourself that’s gotten me through the past year. He’s not real. What is real, although, is the eighteen-year-old version of you who is probably moping around waiting for an answer._   
_I have to give him one. I owe it to him and myself. So, this is goodbye. It’s time for me to move on, to get on with my life. And you’re the final tie to my old existence. The one I want to be better than._

_So, I love you, and I let you go._

_With love,_   
_Draco Lucius Malfoy._

He took a breath of relief, sealing away the last letter that he would ever write. It was as if a weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Draco still hadn’t made a decision, but he knew that he was one step closer to making the right one.

Suddenly, the flew roared to life, “Draco Malfoy. I am absolutely _disgusted_ with you.” Mrs Weasley bellowed out and Draco froze.

She narrowed her eyes at him. “It’s been a month since we spoke in your trial and we’ve spoken to you. A month of dinner cancellation and lunch rejections. This had gone on for too long.” She spat at him angrily.

Perhaps, he had been avoiding the Weasley’s, but that was only because he was sure that he’d run into Potter if he accepted any of the invitations.

“I’m sorry Mrs Weasley but I—

Mrs Weasley shook her head, “I don’t want any excuses. We’re getting ready for Sunday dinner as we speak. You _will not_ give me any more excuses. You _will_ be attending today. And you _will_ be standing in my home in the next five minutes, or so help me I’ll drag you over here faster than you can say howler.” She said with the upmost defiance and conviction, before shoving her head out of the flew as the connection cut off.

Draco took a deep breath, rendered completely and utterly speechless. He guessed he was going to the Weasley’s for dinner.

….

“RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY! I swear on my seven children that if you don’t step away from that chicken now, I’ll cut off your tongue!” Mrs Weasley yelled, and those were the first words he heard as he stepped through the Weasley flew.

“But mum, I just wanted to try the chicken.” Weasley moaned.

Draco could hear the glare from Mrs Weasley’s frustrated tone, “Well, you won’t be able to try anything with a chopped off tongue. I hope you’re well acquainted with your sense of smell, because that’s the only sense you’ll have left after I’m done with you.” She yelled before stomping into the living room.

“Oh, hello Draco dear. I was just about to pop over to the manor and check where you’d gotten to. Looks like you’ve saved me a trip.” She exclaimed merrily, and Draco suddenly felt scared. Very, very, scared.

He walked over to her, giving her a warm hug. “I sincerely apologise that it’s taken so long for me to accept one of your dinner proposals. There is no excuse.” He admitted shamefully.

She tutted. “Nonsense, you’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” She gave him one last squeeze before letting go. “Draco’s here!” she called out and almost seconds later he was flocked down by an army of Weasleys.

Arthur Weasley gave him a strong pat on the back, “I’ve found something revolutionary.” He said in pure triumph.

Draco raised an intrigued brow, “whatever may that be?” he questioned intently.

Mr Weasley smiled, “a rubber duck, doesn’t only come in the colour yellow. No, I’ve found a _blue_ rubber duck. It’s blue!” he exclaimed; eyes wide with wonder.

“You have to show me it. I just don’t believe you. A blue rubber _duck_. That’s changes _everything_.”

He nodded, “I’ll bring it down after dinner.” He promised just as Draco was pulled into a hug from Hermione as Weasley patted him on the back.

Hermione pulled away glaring at him, and Draco had the sinking feeling that he was in trouble. “How _hard_ is it to send an owl Draco Malfoy? Or even reply to one of my owls?” He opened his mouth to speak but she silenced him with a wave of her hand, “and don’t give me some rubbish excuse about how I could’ve come to the manor. Your wards wouldn’t let me in.” she pointed out.

Oh yes, the manor wards! He really needed to get round to changing them some time soon.

“We were just really worried mate.” Weasley offered him.

Draco took a deep breath and glanced at both of them apologetically, “I truly am sorry. I’ve just needed a bit of time for myself.” He admitted quietly.

Hermione pulled him in for yet another hug. “Just don’t ever do anything like this again. I’ve been so scared Draco.” She squeezed him even tighter, as if she were scared he would slip from her fingers.  
  
Draco hugged her just as tight, “I promise.” He said truthfully, and they remained wrapped in each other’s arms for several more moments.

Weasley coughed, “Okay Malfoy, that’s enough, stop fondling my girl.” He teased as they broke apart.

He smirked at Weasley, “So you finally came to your senses and realised that this one’s been crazy for you for years.” He joked gesturing to Hermione who promptly jabbed him in the stomach.

Weasley turned a very bright shade of red, “if you meant that I realised how much of an idiot I’d been, then yes.” He admitting placing a chaste cheek on Hermione’s cheek, who also began to blush.

It was sickly sweet. Seeing the couple so in love with one another, filled Draco with a deep sense of longing. He _wanted_ that. He even could have that with Potter. If he’d just allow himself to take the great leap of faith, instead of carrying on like a coward. Maybe, just maybe if he allowed himself, he’d have a chance at something real.

“Draco?” A hesitant voice asked in almost disbelief. Draco’s breath hitched as he took in the deep green eyes of Harry Potter.

A thousand thoughts were whirling through his mind, but one of them was that Potter looked _good_. And not even moderately acceptable good. But honest to Merlin, jaw dropping good.

His brown curls had been neatly chopped; now sprawled out messily upon his head. His jaw was sharper, his lips just that little bit plumper. Colour had returned to his golden skin, him now radiating warmth. He’d even filled out slightly, his new weight gain adding positively to his already toned physique. Even his blazing green eyes seemed more mesmerising than ever. 

Draco suddenly felt quite self-conscious of his pale skin, and slim physique.

Potter took a small step towards him, “how have you been?” his tone was cordial, but his eyes gave him away. They were full of so much unspoken emotion, Draco feared that he would pass out from the weight of it.

“I’ve been well.” He choked out as formally as he could.

Potter nodded. “That’s good.” He responded, his gaze drifting towards the ground below.

This was awkward. Draco wasn’t imagining things, right? He’d spent hours thinking about how his first meeting with Potter would go, he’d even dreamed about it. There had been smiles, cries, and screams, but never had he dreamed anything like this. This was particularly embarrassing.

Luckily, a fallen angel intervened, “Harry, are you not going to introduce me to you friend?” She asked pointedly.

Potter nodded, “Draco this is Andromeda Tonks. Andromeda this is Draco Malfoy.” He gestured between them and Andromeda smiled in welcome.

The first thing he noticed was that she looked quite similar to his mother. Despite her brown locks and thin lips, in many respects they could’ve passed as twins. The second thing he noticed was that she was carrying a small child in her arms.

Draco extended a hand which she took with her free one, “it’s very nice to meet you.” He said politely.

She laughed, “no need for the pleasantries, we’re family. It’s about time we met.” She gave him a wide grin, “and this is Teddy.” She gestured to the small child, who waved shyly, his little eyes sparkling. “He’s a little tired right now, but I can already tell that he likes you. He doesn’t wave for just anyone, you know.” She remarked.He felt his cheeks growing warm at the statement, “well, I think I like you too.” He said lovingly at Teddy who gave him a huge smile in return.

“How’s your mother?” she asked quietly, almost desperately.

He took a deep breath, “she’s as well as she can be.” He answered shortly, taking in the concern on his aunt’s features. He decided to take a risk, “I know that mother would love to see you, if you ever get the chance.” He offered.

His aunt’s eyes glistened with tears, “that would be lovely.” She answered in relief and Draco smiled, he had stuck the landing. He repeats, he had stuck the landing.

“RONALD BILLIUS WEASLEY YOUR CHICKEN IS READY!” Mrs Weasley bellowed as Draco watched in amusement as Weasley ran past with determination.

Potter chuckled, “I think dinner’s ready.” He commented looking solely at Draco which made his heart thump. He hated the effect that Potter continued to have on him.

He’d think about that later, right now he wanted chicken.

….

Happily, full of chicken, Draco sat on the couch as he watched Potter play with Teddy in complete awe. He looked so relaxed, so free. He looked almost as happy as the day at the manor when he’d seen Draco again for the first time. Knowing that seeing Draco again had made him happy, filled him up with welcomed delight.

“May I sit here?” his aunt asked and Draco nodded, gesturing for her to sit. He was only waiting for Mr Weasley and that wonderous blue rubber duck anyways.

His aunt gazed at Potter and her grandson lovingly, before giving Draco a knowing glance. “He looks really happy, doesn’t he?” Draco didn’t trust himself to speak, so he gave her a quick nod.

They sat there for several moments in silence before his aunt spoke again, “it’s your Black side.” She stated and Draco gave her a baffled look. She sighed, “It’s because you’re a Black, that’s why you’re holding back.” She said simply.

Draco opened his mouth to tell her that she was wrong, but she cut him off, “we push people away because we’re scared. Because we can’t imagine a world when we’re not in control.” She put her hand atop of Draco’s.

She took a deep breath, “I almost made the biggest mistake of my life because I almost gave into fear. I almost lost the love of my life. But I didn’t. I married him, and that was the best decision I had ever made. She squeezed his hand. “Never say no to true love because your scared.”

Draco didn’t know what to say to that because he was scared. He was so scared. Ironically, he guessed that he was too cowardly to realise that. But he understood now. His heart had been broken so many times he couldn’t bare to have it break another.

Giving your heart wholly to another, that had to be the scariest thing that he’d ever have to do. If he’d ever be brave enough to do it.

“Close your eyes.” His aunt instructed and he gave her a: _you have got to be kidding me_ kind of look. She slapped his arm, “don’t question me.” She told him.

He sighed closing his eyes firmly. “Good, now close your eyes and think about what your future would be.” She started and Draco attempted to imagine his future. She carried on, “is it long? Is it short? Is it everything that you could possibly want?” She asked.

There was nothing. He tried to imagine the future that he wanted, but the truth was, he didn’t know what he wanted. He had no idea.

“You can’t picture it, can you?” she stated. If he weren’t so concerned about how right she was, he would’ve agreed that he couldn’t picture a thing. “Try it again, but this time, let go of your fear.” She instructed softly.

So, Draco let go of his fear, and the pictures came flooding in. Him and Potter hand in hand walking down Diagon Alley. Potter and him buying their first house together. Potter and him getting married. Their first child. Their second child. Them growing old together, loving each other till the day they died. He pictured his future, and it was all Potter.

Draco opened his eyes and looked straight into the ecstatic eyes of Harry Potter. He looked _beautiful_. He realised that he wanted that. He wanted all of Potter, and he wanted to give all of himself to Potter. Suddenly, all that his mother had said finally made sense.

It was _real_.

His aunt gave him an encouraging pat on the back. “So, the question is, what would you do if you had no fear?” she asked and Draco finally knew.

Abruptly, he stood up muttering his apologies before running out the door straight towards the apparition point, ignoring the concerned shouts and objections that he had left behind.

….

Frantically, he ran up to his room, dodging his mother’s questions and comments. 

Where were they? Where were they? He absently thought as Draco grabbed hold of a velvet green coloured box. Found them.

With a shaky breath, he ran out of his room sprinting towards the door. He needed to do this. He had to find Potter. He’d been letting fear rule his life, he’d almost let it cause him to lose the one person that could make him truly happy.

Well, not anymore. He was tired of running. It was time to fight for the one person who had never stopped fighting for him.

As he reached the manor doors, he gave himself a reassuring smile as he opened them with determination. His breath hitched with pure surprise; the doors opened to reveal no other than Harry Potter.

“What are you doing here?” Draco asked in pure disbelief.

Potter looked up at him in concern, “You left so quickly, everyone was so worried so I left to come and find you, to put everyone’s minds at rest.” He answered simply and Draco’s face involuntarily fell.

He glanced down at the floor, “yes well, you can tell them—

“Screw it!” he yelled taking a step closer towards him. “They’re probably worried out of their wits. But I couldn’t know because I left straight after you. I’ll always follow you.” He whispered the last part quietly.

He cared. Potter really cared! Knowing that gave Draco the last piece of strength that he needed. He opened the box, taking out the letters, and holding them out to Potter with shaky hands.

Potter took them hesitantly, bafflement dusting his features. “What are these?” he asked.

Draco took a deep breath, this was it. There was no going back, not now, not ever. “They’re letters… that I wrote… for you.” He choked out anxiously. “Read them. They bare all. The good. The bad. The ugly. Everything that I am is in those letters.” He looked up at Potter intently, “and if you still want to be with me once you’ve read them, then yes. My answer is yes.” He said, finally giving himself to Potter.

He shook his head, “but Draco don’t you realise? Nothing you could say, do, or write would change my mind about being with you.” He almost pleaded.

He gulped, that was all that he wanted to hear. But he needed to stay strong, for Potter and himself. “I hope that’s true.” He said honestly. “But I need you to do this. I need to do this.” He finished. 

“Take all the time you need to read them. It’s time I fought for you. I’ll wait for you.” He assured Potter leaning in and giving him a small peck on his cheek, savouring the moment as it could very well be the last.

He pulled away begrudgingly, “I’ll _always_ wait for you.” He whispered, before closing the door, praying that Potter would come back to him.

It was the right thing to do. It was the _only_ thing to do. He didn’t remember his time with Potter, he didn’t remember what he said or didn’t say. What he admitted or didn’t admit. By giving Potter the letters, he was disclosing the person that he once was, and was offering the person that he hoped to be.

He already knew that he wanted all of Potter. He knew his faults, he knew the things that he had done, and he loved him more because of them. He needed to know that Potter accepted him in his entirety. And this was the only way to do that.

He’d taken the final step to a life with Potter. The rest was in Potter’s hands now. his stomach lurched with anticipation, love, and relief, as he absently realised that he never did see that blue rubber duck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, only two more chapters to go! All I can say is: fluff, fluff, fluff, and a teeny bit of angst because who am I without angst!?! :)


	15. Chapter Fifteen.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the final chapter before the epilogue! I hope this almost ending is a fitting one :)

_Dear Mr Malfoy,_

_We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September for an unconventional eighth year. We await your owl no later than 31 July_

_Yours sincerely,_  
_Headmistress Minerva McGonagall_

Draco had accepted.

Of course, he had accepted, it was Hogwarts! And if Draco didn’t want to spend his days living the same _laissez a faire_ life many of the Malfoy’s before him had lived, then he needed to obtain a potions NEWT. 

It was now one day before he’d be boarding the Hogwarts express, and be on his way to Hogwarts. He was nervous. He was really, really nervous. He’d spent most of the summer cooped up in the Manor, except from the many Weasley family dinners that he had attended. 

He could say that he’d made a family in the Weasley’s, they treated him as if he were a part of it anyhow. At times, he felt guilty of how he used to view and speak about them, but now he felt as if he was making up for it. He was immensely glad that he had distanced himself from his bigotry views, that decision had allowed him to love and befriend the most wonderful people.

He hadn’t seen nor spoken to Potter since the night that Draco had gifted him the letters. Potter had deemed a moments peace to allow him to think necessary, so had flocked off to the Dragon reserve in Romania where Charlie Weasley worked.

Draco had spent the whole summer worrying out of his wits. His mind was constantly submerged with bothersome questions like what if Potter forgot about him? Or what if Potter never wanted to see him? Or the dreaded, what if Potter fell out of love with him?

Draco didn’t think he could handle that.

Hermione told him that worrying was pointless, and he would go crazy because of it. She promised him that if she knew Harry like she think she did, then he would never fall out of love with him. Pansy on the other hand, had slapped him on the head and reminded him that Potter’s leaving was all his fault in the first place.

“Did you or did you not tell him that you wanted him to take time to think whether he wanted a relationship with the real you?” she had asked, to which Draco had replied with a simple “Yes”.

She had smiled at that and then persisted to ask, “and did you or did you not demand that he do just that even though he had originally refused?” to which Draco once again replied with a simple “Yes”.

Pansy had carried on, “So, is this, or is this not all your fault, because you’re a stubborn little git?” she asked smugly, to which Draco had replied with a simple “Fuck you”.

So, the moral of the story was that it was all Draco’s fault. He was stuck at the manor antagonizing over Potter who was probably in Romania forgetting all about him. You know what they say, karma really was a bitch.

….

The first thing that Draco noticed about Azkaban was that it was cold. Although it was only the end of the summer, it felt as if it were the middle of winter!

He cautiously approached his father’s cell. At least they’d made alterations so the prison was somewhat liveable. He understood those who agreed with the inhumane conditions that the prisoners used to endure, claiming that they deserved it. That didn’t necessarily mean that he agreed with them.

If were all to expose criminals to the same way in which they treated us, then we would be no better than them. Those who were not kissed were forced to spend part or the rest of their lives completely cut off from the world. Wasn’t that punishment enough?

He took a deep breath as he faced his father, putting his hands safely into his robe pockets. His father looked well considering. His hair was a little longer, but was still prestige, nevertheless. His pale skin was lighter but not sickly. His eyes were sunken but still twinkled with light. All and all, Draco was quite pleased to see his father as close to healthy as he could possibly be whilst in Azkaban.

“Hello father.” He gave him a cordial nod, masking the relief that he felt.

His father’s eyes lit up as soon as he saw him, which made Draco flush all over. Hearing that his father cared deeply about him was one thing, but seeing it, that was another thing altogether. 

He returned Draco’s nod, “it’s nice to see that you’ve finally decided to pay your father a visit, son.” He said, trying and failing to hide his glee.

“I apologise that I haven’t visited sooner. Everything’s just been a little too… much lately.” He replied as honestly as he could.

What was he meant to say? I’m sorry that I haven’t visited you in prison father, I’ve been too caught up confessing my love for Potter to acknowledge your existence. Oh, and also I’m still not one hundred percent sure that Potter wants to be with me at this point, so there’s a possibility that it was all for nothing.

But, I’m sorry, I’ll do better.

Something told him that wouldn’t go down too well. His father may be in Azkaban, but if Draco knew Malfoy’s, then his father didn’t need to be a free man in order to kill him. He’d rather not take that chance, even though his life wasn’t the greatest at the moment, he still planned on keeping it, thank you very much!

His father eyed him sceptically, “I’m not one for talking about things so miniscule such as feelings, but even I can see that your caught up in them.” He stated.

Draco crossed his arms across his chest, looking away. “I don’t want to talk about it.” he mumbled almost grumpily.

His father sighed an exasperated sigh, “Draco, I spend my days locked away in a tiny cell. I shall not and will not be ignored.” he raised a brow just urging Draco to defy him.

The bloody nerve of him! Did he really think that he could sit there in his dingy little prison cell and still tell Draco what to do. It was completely preposterous.

“And who’s fault is that?” he answered scathingly. Giving his father a pointed and somewhat frustrated look.

His father took a step closer towards Draco, a murderous glint residing in his eyes. “Now is not the time to discuss this. If you want to speak to me about it later, then fine. But right now, you’re going to tell me what exactly is going on with Potter and you’re going to tell me now!” he said lowly and Draco shivered.

Was he really that obvious? Did he seriously have the words ‘I love Harry Potter’ written on his forehead. It was all very concerning if you asked him.

He narrowed his eyes at his father, “how do you know it’s about Potter?” he questioned.

His father let out a defeated breath, “it’s always been about Potter.” He said matter-of-factly. “Has been since the second you met him. That was a lie. It’s been about him since before you even met him.” his father reluctantly admitted.

Draco opened his mouth to object, but quickly closed it. Where was the lie? He’d been obsessed with Harry Potter since he was eleven. Hell, he’d been obsessed with Potter long before that.

“So, are you going to expose me to the matter regarding Potter that is so obviously causing you to act like a petulant, self-pitying idiot?” His father asked and Draco rolled his eyes.

He sighed, “fine.” So, Draco told him everything. He spoke about the beginning of his seventh year and his newfound feelings for Potter. He told his father about how he’d been detached and lost all year, and how Potter had been one of the only things to keep him going.

He spoke of that fateful day at the manor and the way Potter had acted. He revealed the first time that Potter had told him that he loved him. He even admitted the first time that he said those three words to Potter. He spoke of the Weasley’s. He told his father about the last words he had said to Potter. He told him about the letters…

Once Draco had finished, his father eyed him in deep thought for several seconds. He raised a knowing brow, “So, what I’m hearing is that Potter and yourself fell in love, you then obliviated yourself in order to protect him. But that didn’t go exactly as you had planned since you so obviously can’t forget feelings. And now you’ve gone and told Potter to think about if he wants to be with you, even though he’s explicitly stated several times that he’s completely besotted with you and doesn’t want to spend his life with anybody else.” He stated.

Draco’s mouth fell open in utter shock, his father carried on, “that has got to be the most _pathetic_ thing I have ever heard.” He mused in almost disbelief. His father rolled his eyes, “please do close your mouth Draco, it’s ever so unflattering.” He chastised.

He was too baffled to speak. Is that really how he sounded? It was unseemly. Draco shook his head, wait a second…. He had done WHAT?! 

“I didn’t obliviate myself.” He pointed out; his mind dizzy with thoughts.

His father chuckled. “And I’m the king of England.” Draco wanted to point out that his father indeed had royal blood but decided against it. 

He gave him a serious look, “think about it son, you’re a smart boy. You’re a Malfoy after all. Who do you know with occlumency training that would obliviate you so expertly that you remembered everything about your life _but_ your interactions with Potter in your sixth year?” he asked.

Draco thought about it. He _really_ thought about it. He tried to poke holes in his father’s conclusion. Pansy or Blaise could have done it. But… they couldn’t perform occlumency. He knew for a fact that Weasley couldn’t have executed something like that. And Hermione possibly could’ve carried it out, but she most definitely would’ve told them by now, the guilt being all too much. Plus, he sincerely doubted that a bunch of mini Hufflepuff first years had the magical capability to perform such a complicated task.

His father was right, he’d done it to himself.

He shook his head as he struggled to come to terms with his actions, “but why would I have done that?” He asked in disbelief.

“Because you loved him. And with Death Eater’s watching your every move, as well as the Dark Lord living in your home, you knew that it was the only way to protect him.” his father answered, and Draco was sure that he could detect a hint of sadness to his tone.

Draco’s eyes started to well with tears, “it was my fault. I’ve lost him, and it’s all my fault.” He choked out in realisation.

His father growled. “Son, I’m only going to say this once, so listen closely.” He told him. “It’s _not_ your fault. You sacrificed your memories. You sacrificed your love. You sacrificed your life so that Potter could live. You saved him by doing that, and by extension, you saved us all.” he finished as tears started to spill down his cheeks.

It was a mesmerising sight. He’d never in his eighteen years had seen his father cry. So, to see him, so raw and exposed, grieving for all that Draco had lost, but proud of all that he had become, was the best gift anyone could’ve possibly given to him.

His father carried on. “What you have with Potter is the real thing. I can tell by the look in your eyes when you speak about him. It’s the same look I get whenever I speak about your mother.” he admitted, a wistful look dancing in his eyes.

Draco edged closer towards his father’s cell as his father grabbed his hands through the bars, pulling him closer so that their foreheads were touching. “If what you and Potter have is even half of what your mother and I have, then Potter will come back to you. I promise.” He assured him, and for the first time Draco felt convinced.

Potter would come back to him. He would _always_ come back to him. And there was no doubt in Draco’s mind that he would do the same.

….

His bed was uncomfortable. Why in Merlin’s name were satin sheets uncomfortable? What was the point in buying the best if it still wasn’t good enough? It was decided. Screw being a Potions Master! Draco was going to become a satin sheet expert, and that was that.

It was currently around ten at night, and to some that may seem an early time to go to sleep. To those deluded, idiotic, imbeciles Draco would like to give them a personal ‘fuck you, are you an owl?’ He decided that many wouldn’t appreciate his statement, he’ll try to care right after he stops not caring. So… never.

“Draco?” his mother whispered carefully, and he turned to face her, “are you awake?” she asked and he was just about to answer when the cup of tea she was carrying slipped from her grasp and landed onto the floor with a painfully loud _smash_.

He heaved himself up and tutted as his mother muttered a cleaning spell. “Well, if I wasn’t before then I am now.” he bit out sarcastically as his mother came to sit next to him.

She sighed. “I’m sorry darling, I wanted to bring you a nice cup of tea before your big day tomorrow.” She offered in an apologetic tone.

Draco chuckled, “I’ve been to school many a times before, I hardly think that this time will be any different.” He told her confidently.

His mother squeezed his sweaty hand, “maybe, but it’s the first time that you’ll be going back since the war. Doesn’t that bother you?” she asked in deep concern.

It wasn’t so much that it bothered him more than it completely terrified him. Truthfully, he had no idea how he was going to act. Was he going to cry? Was he going to laugh? Would he be absolutely fine? He had no bloody idea. He just hated not being in control of this, it left far too much possibility of upset.

“It does.” He admitted quietly, “more thank you can imagine. But I can’t let fear stop me from going after the things I know I need. And I need to earn my potions NEWT. I need to socialise with my friends. I need to seek closure. I _need_ Hogwarts.” He said defiantly, a twinge of pride running through him.

His mother pulled him into a tight squeeze. “You know, there was a time when I believed that you would never say that.” She said honestly, and Draco’s cheeks started to warm up.

It was true. He’d been afraid for most of his adolescent life. He’d denied himself so many things, so many possibilities. But he was stronger now, better. He couldn’t let fear win. He wouldn’t.

She carried on, “but now looking at you and hearing what you have to say, I couldn’t be any more confident that you’ll go on to do great things, than I am now. I’m proud of you Dragon.” She told him, tears lacing her voice.

Her words meant everything to him. The one thing he’d always wanted to do was make his parents proud. And knowing that not one but both his parents were proud of him, that they accepted him… well, that made him accept himself as well. 

He pulled his mother close that night and fell asleep in her arms. It were if he was a young boy once more, but Draco didn’t mind all that much. In fact, a part of him knew that the small boy he once was had never truly left him.

….

Was nobody going to comment on how awkward it all was? Draco looked round frantically at his friends; their lips remained tightly sealed. Seriously, nobody?

Wow, you know what they say, if you want something done, then you have to fucking do it yourself.

He let out a low cough, “so is anybody going to comment on how awkward this all is?” he asked looking around. They remained silent, “No? Just me?” he bit out sarcastically.

Was this what he got for being a little bit truthful? How rude. If this was how people were going to act whenever he told the truth, then he would cease to do it. He’ll become the classic lying, scheming Slytherin that everyone used to think he was.

“Let’s try something different.” He offered his friends; he took a deep breath. “Okay… ONE, TWO, THREE….. TALK!” he shouted encouragingly. They remained silent.

Oh, he saw how they wanted to play it. Well, two could play at that game. He stroked his chin as if he were in deep thought, “I wonder what my Hufflepuff’s are doing?” He started as he watched his friends start to squirm. “I hear that they’ve charmed their butterflies to act a little more aggressively, I do ponder what exactly would happen if they just so happened to attack once I step out of the carriage.” He threatened lightly.

He watched in glee as Hermione’s face turned a frustrated shade of red, “I can’t take it anymore!” she shouted in defeat.

Draco smirked, “she speaks!” he said in exaggeration.

She glared at him, “I’d keep it shut if I were you.” She told him and Draco promptly shut up, he figured that he liked his balls a little too much to dare to speak. 

Hermione glanced at Weasley before turning to look at Pansy and Blaise, she let out a sigh, “ we _have_ to talk about this.” She urged them.

Pansy shook her head, “we have nothing to say.” She stated, gesturing between Blaise and herself. 

Seriously? You had _got_ to be kidding him. He was done. He was so, so done. “So, you can speak to her. But can ignore me for three fucking hours!” he exclaimed in frustration.

His pug faced friend rounded on him accusingly, “ _you_ stopped being valid, the moment you decided to become neutral.” She growled at him.

“She has a point, mate.” Weasley stated and they all nodded in agreement.

Draco waved his hands manically, “This is so fucking typical! The only time you four bloody agree is when you’re rallying against me.” He bit out, glaring at Weasley.

Weasley shook his head, “why are you looking at _me_?” he defended, pointing a crooked finger and Pansy and Blaise, “this is all _their_ fault.” He accused.

“It’s not our fault you two are acting like sensitive little Hufflepuff's.” Blaise spat back.

“Don’t you DARE bring Hufflepuff's into this. We can settle this without being judgemental.” He huffed. No one should even dare to say anything bad about Hufflepuff's. Not when he was around.

Pansy glared at him, “oh, shut up about your Hufflepuff's for a second.” She snarled. “you banging on like a wounded puppy isn’t helping anything.”

He rolled his eyes, “go on, hate on the guy that’s trying to help.” He snapped.

Suddenly, a great bang erupted and all four of them turned to face Hermione, “This isn’t going anywhere.” She huffed, turning towards Pansy and Blaise. “Just admit that you two were wrong, and we can forget about it.” she urged them.

Blaise looked positively offended, “us? You want _us_ to apologise?” he spat angrily. “Oh, go suck Weasley’s dick.” He flipped her off.

“Go get Pansy to suck yours.” Weasley fumed.

Pansy shrieked, jumping up from her seat, her face red with anger, “What did you just say?” she raised her wand in threat and Draco felt scared. Very, very scared.

Weasley pulled out his own wand, rounding it on her, “I said that—

“SHUT THE FUCK UP!” Draco screamed jumping to his feet, ignoring the startled looks he was receiving. “IT’S JUST CHICKEN FOR MERLIN’S SAKE!” he screamed again, as Weasley rounded on him in a blink of an eye.

He pointed his wand under Draco’s chin. Crap. “ _Just chicken_?” Weasley spat at him, he looked him dead into the eye. “Was it _just_ chicken when we snuck down to the kitchens to find some after curfew?” Draco shook his head. “Was it _just_ chicken when I brought you two drumsticks out of the goodness of my heart when you were stuck in hospital?” he asked.

“You ate that.” Draco interjected and Weasley glared at him.

He pushed his wand harder into Draco’s neck, “that’s not the point.” He huffed out. “Was it _just_ chicken when you were shoving my mum’s homemade roast into your fat gob a few days ago?” he prompted, and Draco, once again, shook his head.

Weasley released him and sat back down. “So, don’t you dare tell me that it’s just chicken. And if Harry were here then he’d agree with me.” He finished with a smug grin.

Draco shrugged, “but Potter isn’t here.” He countered.

“I _know_ that. Stupid git said he had to do something so he’d not coming back till tomorrow.” Weasley bit out in frustration. He furrowed his eyebrows, “don’t try and distract me.” He turned to Pansy and Blaise, “I expect a handwritten apology by tomorrow.” He simply stated.

His two best friends sighed. “Fine, it’s much better than attempting the homework that I know we’ll get set. It’s just homework, it doesn’t matter all that much.” Pansy said and Draco felt dread pooling in the pits of his stomach.

“JUST HOMEWORK!?!” Hermione screeched, and it continued.

The rest of the eight-hour ride on the Hogwarts Express was anything less than pleasant.

....

Draco’s heart sunk as he entered the Grand Foyer. The reconstruction work on the castle had been phenomenal, but just because you could no longer see the blood stains, didn’t mean that they weren’t there.

His breath hitched as he became fixated on the spot where he’d killed Bellatrix. He had actually _killed_ another living, breathing human being. And it was his aunt at that. He’d killed his own blood.

A comforting hand clamped gently onto his shoulder. “It had to be done. There was no choice.” Neville said determinedly.

Draco shook his head, not being able to tear his gaze from the tainted spot before him. “But there was a choice, and I’d chosen the wrong one.” He countered, feeling shame wash over him. 

There _had_ been a choice. He didn’t have to kill her. No, he could’ve shown her mercy. She’d be rotting in Azkaban right about now, but at least she’d still be alive. At least he wouldn’t be a murderer. 

“Have you any idea of just how many lives she’d ruined? Of how many people she’d already killed? Of all the people she had yet to kill?” Neville asked him in a serious tone. 

Draco could do nothing but stare into the distance. It was no secret that his aunt had been a horrible person, but he’d killed her. He’d killed her with a vengeance, just like she’d done to Kat.

But it wasn’t even the fact that he had taken another life that disgusted him. No, it was that he’d liked it. He’d looked into her defenceless, pleading, eyes and had felt nothing but sheer pleasure. He wanted her to die, he’d wanted her to get hurt. And he’d done it. 

And part of him knew that he could go to sleep right now, that he could forget all about it but, would he be able to rest? That was the question.

Neville sighed, “I don’t think that anyone deserves to die.” He said honestly, “But people like her… well, they don’t deserve to live either.” He gave Draco’s shoulder one last squeeze before joining the crowd.

He took a deep breath and asked himself one question. A question that was needed, a question that would allow him to rest. _Would he do it again_?

Yes.

He had his answer. Maybe justice and revenge were two different thing. Perhaps, justice wasn’t revenge and revenge wasn’t justice. But sometimes…. Just sometimes, they coexisted together in perfect harmony.

….

The Great Hall was as magical as ever. He looked around at the tables full of students, examining all their faces. There was an abundance of emotions. Some were happy, some were tired, some were relived. But no one. Not one face looked vengeful. That was something that brought a small smile to his face.

He realised that right now Wizarding society was broken. People had lost family, friends, themselves. But, it would heal. They would all heal. They’d already begun healing. The smiles dusting many of the students faces proved that.

He glanced at the excited first years. Them all so naïve, almost ignorant to some of the pained faces around them. They just saw Hogwarts for what it was. Not a place of blood, death, and battle, but a place that many went to learn, to smile, a place that we could all call _home_. 

In that moment, he realised that he had a duty. They all had a duty to protect the next generation. To shape and guide them. To make sure that their optimism was never replaced with pessimism, much like many of them had been exposed to. They deserved a chance to be free to have a choice, and it was up to them to make sure they got it.

A purple glint caught his eye, as he glanced at the Hufflepuff table. Piggy was at the centre, the ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ badges being passed round frantically. Them shining on the robes of most of the Hufflepuff's.

Draco took a double take, it wasn’t just Hufflepuff's. No, it was _everyone_. The badges sat proudly on the robes of nearly everyone in the Great Hall. His eyes teared up at the sight, it was truly overwhelming. The smiling, accepting faces of all those around him gave him the last piece of hope that he’d never really realised he’d lost.

The buzzing in the hall fell to a stop and Headmistress McGonagall took the stand, she shot Draco a small smile before she started to speak. “I would like to welcome you all for a new year at Hogwarts.” She looked at them warmly, and Draco’s heart clenched.

Her face took on a more serious look, “I know that the last year has been tough on many. I understand that many don’t buy into the whole idea of victory. What did we really win? Together we rid the world of Voldemort.” She stammered when she said his name, But Draco was proud of her, nevertheless. He’d never noticed how brave, and how strong the woman in front of him truly was. He was ashamed of his ignorance.

She carried on, “But at the expense of our loved ones. Of our innocence. Of our sanity. So, we ask ourselves, what do we have to celebrate? What do we have to be thankful for?” she took a deep breath, looking at every last one of them intently, before continuing.

“It seems as though everything was lost. That everything was taken from us. Ripped from our clutches. And in a sense, the war did do that. It tore down the life we once knew, the life that we had become accustomed to. Throwing us away as if we were broken and used. We didn’t have much, but at least we had something.” Her voice started to shake and Draco could tell that she was holding back the tears.

But like the powerful, influential woman that she was, she remained strong. “So, I ask again, what do we have to be thankful for?” she prodded with determination.

“A second chance.” She breathed out, a single tear escaping from her grasp. “Before we only knew today. We knew then then, and the right now. We knew strength. We knew how to fight. We were well acquainted with the present.” She carried on unwavering.

She locked eyes with Draco, and he gave a small reassuring nod. She continued, “But now, now we get to experience _tomorrow_. We have a chance to do better. To be better than we were yesterday. You can’t go back and change the beginning, but you can start where you are and change the ending.”

Draco’s heart was beating frantically within his chest, as he held onto every last one of the Headmistress’ words. Her putting into words the very things that he didn’t know how to express.

“It’s time we put our narrow minded, bigotry beliefs behind us. That we learned to trust and believe in one another. I am no different to you and any of you are no different than I.” she gave Draco a small smile. “Katerina Pritchett knew that.” She stated and Draco’s breath hitched as he started to cry uncontrollably.

He felt the warm hand of Pansy entwine with his, as he cried silent tears. The Headmistress carried on, “she helped those who she could. She loved those who needed it. She accepted those who couldn’t accept themselves.” She choked out whilst pulling out a ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ badge and pinning it onto her robe.

She gestured to the badge, “she created a place that anyone could go. Somewhere to be safe. To be free. She believed in tomorrow. And it’s up to us, to carry on the light that her memory and so many others have gifted us with.” She urged them all.

The Headmistress took one last strong breath, “we’ve been given a second chance. It’s time we forget how to survive and begin to learn how to live.” She finished and the entire hall erupted into applause, tears dusting all faces. 

Draco smiled through the tears, giving the Headmistress a grateful look. Gathering all his strength, he looked up into the sky, his eyes stopping on the brightest star. 

With a choked sob, he smiled at the star and whispered, “you’ve done it. You can rest now.” he told his best friend, who’s love had saved them all.

And for the first time, he realised that the darkness was needed. That it was the one thing that drove them. For the light was a good thing, but stars could only shine in the dark.  
....

Draco was making his way to the Great Lake when a hand clamped down onto his shoulder. Alarmed, he turned around pointing his wand at his attacker in threat.

“Don’t shoot. Don’t shoot.” Theo held his hands up in a joking manner. 

Draco glared at his friend, tucking his wand safely back into his pocket. He huffed, “in what part of your twisted mind did you believe that to be a smart way to approach a friend.” He chastised.

It wasn’t as though he didn’t like his friend, he did. It was just that he had somewhere that he really needed to be. It was around five minutes before curfew, and five minutes before he was sure to be caught for sneaking out of bed. 

Theo chuckled, “still a pointy git then?” he remarked.

“Still a bothersome fool?” Draco shot right back and they both paused for several seconds before bursting into a round of laughter.

Theo patted his back, “it’s good to see that war hasn’t changed you much.” He commented, and Draco narrowed his eyes.

War _had_ changed him. It had made him ruthless, wary, and cruel. But, it had also made him strong, accepting, and loving. War had given him some of the qualities that he hated most about himself. But if given the option, he wouldn’t go back. For war had given him everything that he didn’t realise he so desperately needed.

He took a deep breath. “War has changed me.” He honestly stated as simply as he could without going much into it.

His friend nodded. “I know. For the better I think.” He said determinedly. “But I don’t think it’s changed you. I think it’s brought to light the person you always were but was too afraid to be.” He offered Draco.

The person he’d always been too afraid to be. Theo’s words rattled inside his head frantically. He’d never thought about it like that. He’d just assumed that had changed, that war had morphed him into a different person.

“I’ve never thought about it in that way before.” He told him.

Theo shook his head. “People don’t change Draco. They manipulate, they learn, they adapt, but never change.” He gave Draco a warm smile, “And this, the person who you now are, the person that’s standing before me, has always been a part of you.” He stated.

He sighed before stepping away from Draco, “this is the person that you are without the manipulation, without the lies nor the deceit.” Theo gave Draco one last glance, “this is the person who you were before the world told you who you should be.” He whispered those few, parting words, before making his exit.

Draco turned around and headed towards the Great Lake, his mind caught up in thought. He decided that Theo was right, it had just taken him some time to realise that. He was no longer Draco Lucius Malfoy, esteemed pureblood, and Malfoy heir. No, he was Draco, just _Draco_.

After all, no matter how many times a snake shed its skin, it would always be a snake. 

….

Draco was sitting at the Great Lake, the stars shining down on him protectively. He had his sketchbook on his lap, and a pencil in his hand. He mused that it had been such a long time since he had drawn anything. He missed it. Losing himself in his own little world, away from the clutches of reality. It was his escape, and he was thankful that it was still there for him to go to.

Suddenly, two arms wrapped around his waist, picking him up and turning him around. Draco’s heart stopped as he looked into the eyes of Harry Potter. Silvery grey on emerald green. He could hardly believe his eyes.

Harry Potter was standing before him. He was holding Draco in his arms, giving him the most loving smile that he could muster. Draco hadn’t seen Potter in months, but he was here. He was holding Draco and it seemed as if he would never let go.

It didn’t seem real. These sort of moments only happened in the safety of ones imagination. Draco shook his head in pure disbelief, “you’re here.” He whispered his voice drenched with pure wonder.

Potter squeezed him a little tighter, “I’m here.” He reassured him softly, his eyes scanning gently over Draco’s face, as if searching for an answer he desperately wanted to find.

“You left me.” Draco cried out. “You left, and I thought you’d forgotten about me, that you didn’t want me.” He shamefully admitted, hanging his head down low.

It pained him to be this vulnerable to someone. To give his heart so wholly to another. To have his whole life residing in one’s hands. The thought was terrifying. But if Draco had learned anything, it was that in order to love it wasn’t a matter of letting go of the fear but holding it close and embracing it.

Potter brought a hand to his chin, lifting his head so that Draco’s eyes were on his. “You told me to go.” He reminded him and Draco sighed.

“I didn’t mean fleeing to another country.” He argued, but deep down he knew that his objection was weak. He had virtually given Potter the wings to fly away.

Potter held Draco’s hands in his, “I had to leave. I had to go. If I had stayed, then nothing would’ve stopped me from coming back to you. I couldn’t do that to you. I couldn’t ignore your wishes. So, I left.”

He took in Potter’s words. Telling Potter to be sure. Essentially telling him to leave, had in one sense been one of the biggest mistakes he had ever made. But, ultimately, it had given him the courage to find himself. It had given him the strength to accept himself. And love was only made possible through acceptance. 

“I waited for you.” Draco told him quietly.

Potter nodded at him, giving him a small grin. “And I came back.” He whispered.

Draco’s heart clenched. Those were the words he’d waited months to hear, that he had waited a lifetime to listen to. Thinking them was one thing, hearing them was another, but believing them… well, that was another thing altogether.

“Why didn’t you come back straight away?” he accused lightly.

He watched in concern as Potter took a deep breath, his eyes shifting slightly to Draco’s neck. “I went to see your father.” He admitted softly.

Draco eyes widened in alarm, “my father?” he questioned in complete bafflement, “but why would you—

His words faded, as Potter lifted his hand, bringing it to Draco’s neck, gently pulling out the ring that lay silently on Draco’s chest. Carefully, he unclasped the necklace, removing the ring from its chain.

“I gave this to you almost two years ago.” He began and Draco’s heart started to beat rapidly within his chest. 

The _ring_. It all made sense. It had been his only physical comfort during the war. It kept him close when he was sad, it glowed when he was happy, it kept him safe when he was scared. It went cold when the war seemed lost…

All that time he thought it had been the ring. He had believed that it was the only thing to bring him warmth and security. But he had been wrong. He had been so, so wrong.

It had been Potter. It had all been Potter. It had been him the whole time. Caring for him, protecting him, loving him. It was Potter. It had _always_ been Potter.

Draco didn’t know what to say, but luckily Potter spoke for him. “I promised you almost two years ago that this ring held a part of me. That it would be there to watch over you when I couldn’t. That it would care for you when you craved it. That it would protect you when you needed it most. That you would always have a piece of me to love and hold you close.” He stated and Draco’s breath hitched.

“But I’m here now.” he promised him. “I’m here and I’m not going anywhere.” He held Draco’s left arm tightly. 

He took a deep breath, “I read your letters.” He told him, and Draco felt something close to dread pool in the pits of his stomach. Potter shook his head upon seeing Draco’s reaction, “they don’t change anything. In fact, they’ve made me love you even more, if that’s at all possible.” He admitted.

It was if he were in a dream. A beautiful dream that he never wanted to end. Potter loved him. Potter _still_ loved him. He would never get over that.

Potter continued, “as I said, I went to see your father today. He gave me the last push I needed, the last piece of strength that would allow me to do this.” With shaking hands Potter let go of Draco’s hand, pulling out a ring that hung silently from his own neck.

Gently, Potter pulled the ring from its chain, before letting it drop to the floor. Now, holding two rings in his hands he muttered a charm and Draco watched in amazement as the two rings fused together to form one.

He looked up at Draco with emotion filled eyes. “through these rings, our magic has come together as one, just as I hope us to.” He got down on one knee and Draco gasped. “What I’ve been trying to say is, will you _marry me_ Draco Malfoy? I want to spend the rest of our lives watching the _**sunrise** _together.”

Suddenly, Draco was hit with an overwhelming sensation. He brought a hand up to clutch his head as it spun with a nauseating pain.

It was all coming back to him. The first time he’d met Potter at the Lake. The tears he’d cried that night. The first time they’d watched the sunrise together. The first time Potter had been vulnerable with Draco. The first time Potter had broken his heart. The first time they’d made love. The first time Draco had spoken to Potter. The first time Draco had told Potter that he loved him…

Draco _remembered_. He remembered it all.

“ _Harry_ …” Draco whispered quietly, eyes shining with tears. “I remember.” He choked out and Harry’s eyes widened with pure disbelief. “I remember.” He repeated. “I remember how I fell in love with you. I remember it all.” he vulnerably breathed out.

Harry opened his mouth to speak but Draco shook his head. “I’d forgotten everything. I’d forgotten our talks, our hugs, our _love_. I’d forgotten it all.” he admitted. “But despite that, despite it all, I never fell out of love with you. I may have forgotten the how, but I’d never forgotten the what.”

He held out his hand to Harry’s awaiting ring and nodded. “So, yes I’ll marry you. _Of course_ , I’ll marry you.” Harry broke out into a grin that lit up his entire face as he slipped the ring onto Draco’s finger, bringing him into a tender kiss.

Draco gasped into the kiss, pulling Harry closer, as tears silently ran down his face. Harry’s lips were soft, sweet, pouted, and all the things that he remembered them to be. It was everything. He had _everything_.

All that he had fought for, all that he had lost, all that he had found. It had all happened so that he could be here. So that life would lead him down this path. He was free. 

Free to be himself. Free to laugh. Free to smile. Free to love. He was free to be everything he had always know himself to be. For the first time, in a long time, there was nothing blocking his path. He was loved, he was safe, he was accepted. He was _home_.

They watched the sunrise that night, and many nights after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do I hear wedding bells?? So, we're virtually finished. I just wanted to thank each and every one of you have commented, left kudos, or simply just read the fic, the support has meant so much to me. I hope you've all enjoyed this journey, and stay tuned for the epilogue. It'll be up tomorrow! It's not over yet :) :) :)


	16. Epilogue.

“Draco. Hello— Dracoo. Are. You. Ignoring. Me? Draco. Draco. Draco Lucius Malfoy-Potter, you will answer me and you will answer me now!” A voice bellowed at the other end of Draco’s mobile, and he sighed, pulling the phone abruptly from his ear.

A small voice perked up. “Is grandpa struggling to use muggle technology again Papa?” it asked, and Draco turned to smile at his daughter. His beautiful, beautiful daughter.

The last nineteen years had been absolutely perfect. Harry and himself had married straight after graduating from Hogwarts, not wanting to wait a moment more. Many had thought them mad, being nineteen and engaged was one thing. But being married… well, let’s just say that he didn’t want to relive the moment his father had found out about the wedding.

But despite everything. Despite the insults, the disappointment, and the doubt, he had become Draco Lucius Malfoy-Potter at age nineteen. It had been the best decision that he had ever made. 

His gaze settled on his husband, who still looked as gorgeous as he had all those years ago. Much had happened during these past few years, Draco had become a potions master, Harry had become an Auror, they’d been given the gift of their children. They’d bickered, fought, smiled, and laughed. But the one thing that had never changed, the _one_ thing that had remained constant, was his love for Harry.

And Draco loved him. He loved him with his own being, he knew that he’d never stop loving Harry. In fact, he fell a little bit more in love with him as each day passed.

“Dracoo. Draco. Draco. Are you even there?” a frustrated growl snapped him from his thoughts as he diverted his attention back onto his father.

He took a deep breath, praying that Merlin would give him the strength that he knew he so desperately needed. “Father?” he questioned calmly, waiting for a response. The mobile remained silent.

Typical. Of course, when he wanted the infuriating bastard to speak, he kept quiet. His father may have changed a considerable amount over the years, but Draco was sad to say that he was still the proud git that he’d always been.

Draco sighed and attempted again. “Father, can you hear me?” he asked whilst seriously debating whether or not slamming his head against the window beside him was an appropriate action at present. After careful consideration, he decided against it. He was not potentially messing up his hair for anybody.

He tried for the seventh time, “father, are you there?” he questioned, albeit impatiently. 

“Draco?” his father called out. “I can barely hear you.” He pointed out, and Draco finally realised what the problem was. He chuckled slightly; his father really wasn’t the brightest button in the pot.

He gathered his strength for what he hoped was the final time and opened his mouth to speak. “Father, I want you to keep silent and listen closely.” He ordered, pausing for several seconds. When the phone became silent, he took it as a sign to carry on talking. “You’re holding down on the speaker, that’s why you can barely hear me. Take your finger off the speaker.” He urged him.

His father remained silent for several more seconds. A silent Malfoy… that was never a good sign. Draco braced himself for the worst.

“You can barely hear me, you say?” he asked and Draco’s stomach started to fill with dread. His father chuckled with glee, “then I’m sure you won’t be able to hear it when I say that Potter you _stink_.” He said, and everyone froze.

Draco brought an embarrassed hand to his face as his father continued. “And whilst I may appreciate your quidditch opinions, I do _not_ condone the soft kitten that you’ve turned my son into.” Draco sneaked a glance at his husband who was trying and failing to suppress a laugh.

He sighed; his father wasn’t finished yet. “Stupid Potter.” He mumbled. “Stupid Potter, and his stupid hair and his stupid scar.” He bit out and Draco couldn’t contain his laughter for one second longer.

His daughter too, let out a throaty laugh, “grandpa’s silly, isn’t he?” she stated and Draco couldn’t help but nod, because yes, his father was very, very silly.

“Katerina is that you?” His father asked and Draco concluded that he’d finally let go of the speaker. He felt the same emotion filled tears that threatened to spill whenever he heard his daughter’s name.

Kat nodded and Draco shot her a fond look, “he can’t see you through the phone darling.” He reminded her.

She gave him a quick thumbs up before turning back towards the phone. “I’m here grandpa.” She told his father, and Draco smiled. He wouldn’t admit it to anyone but the interactions between his father and his daughter never failed to make his heart swell.

“I’m here too.” Harry told his father, mischief dancing in his eyes. And Draco braced himself for whatever he had planned.

His father let out something acute to a squeak, “Ah Potter—

“That’s Potter-Malfoy to you.” Harry told his father and Draco shook his head knowing how much hearing that grinded on his father’s nerves.

It had been nineteen years and his husband still never failed to get under his father’s skin. It was actually quite amusing to sit back and watch their relationship. It was the most peculiar thing he had ever witnessed.

One minute they were at each other’s throats and the next they were acting as if they were the best of friends. Draco could hardly keep up.

His father started to mutter a few insincere apologies but was quickly interrupted Kat. “Are you coming to wave me off at Hogwarts grandpa?” she asked excitedly, her eyes growing wide.

“That’s why I’m calling sweetheart. I’m afraid that your grandma and I won’t be able to make it.” he said and Draco could hear the disappointment in his tone.

He turned his attention to his daughter, and his heart broke for her. He knew that she’d really been looking forward for them to wave her off at the platform.

Draco didn’t much know what to say, luckily Harry came to his rescue. As always. “Don’t worry mushroom, I’m _sure_ Headmistress McGonagall will allow you and your grandparents an _extra-long_ floo call tonight.” He grinned and Draco could picture the disdain on his fathers’ face.

Ah, revenge was sweet.

“Really?” his daughter chirped out, bouncing up and down in her seat. “That would be wonderful.” She mused, giving Harry an almighty grin.

Draco realised that they were coming to the end of their journey and took a deep breath. “Yes, yes very wonderful indeed. Anyways father, we’re almost at the station so we’re going to have to go.” He told him.

He felt something close to dread as he looked at the station that was slowly coming into view. He checked his watch. _**Twenty-four minutes**_. Twenty-four minutes and his little girl would be gone. Off to Hogwarts far, far away from Draco.

As if sensing his insecure nature, Harry entwined his fingers through Draco’s giving them a small squeeze. The gesture was small, but he’d never needed it more.

“ _Don’t_ tell me you’re riding that muggle death-trap Draco.” His father bit out angrily. “I swear to Merlin if you are I’ll—”

Draco never did hear what his father would do.

….

“Aunt Emmy!” His three-year-old son chirped up as soon as they stepped onto the platform. He squirmed in Harry’s grasped as he held out his arms to Ms Pritchett expectantly.

Her face lit up as soon as her eyes landed on Scorpius. “And who do we have here?” she teased, grabbing him from Harry’s hands and spinning him around. “Have you been a good boy Scorpius?” she asked as Scorpius nodded frantically, clapping his hands with glee.

Ms Pritchett smiled as turned to face Kat. “And what about you, young miss?” she asked her and Kat blushed, also nodding frantically.

They’d kept in contact with Ms Pritchett over the years. She was Kat’s godmother. She had become a part of their little family. It had taken some time, but Draco could finally look at her without being riddled with guilt. It hadn’t been his fault. He knew that now.

“Oh look, there’s Aunt Hermione and Uncle Ron.” Harry gestured to the couple who were giving their daughter Rose a tight squeeze, snapping him from his thoughts.

Draco chuckled slightly as his eyes fell on Weasley, the git had obviously forgotten to take off his greased stained apron. He still couldn’t believe it. If you had told him nineteen years ago that Weasley would’ve become the first successful chicken expert to ever grace Wizarding society, he would’ve laughed in your face. But nineteen years later, and here he was only buying chicken that had been tested and manufactured by Weasley.

He was just about to follow his husband towards their friends, when he felt a small tug on his hand. Draco looked down and into the fearful eyes of his daughter. He felt his heart clench as he sunk to his knees so he was now facing her.

“Is something the matter?” he asked her, his voice laced in concern.

She nodded, “I’m scared she admitted.” and Draco felt his face start to flush. It was the worst thing to hear that your child was fearful.

As a parent, you wanted to protect your child. To drive all their worries away, making sure that they only ever felt loved and cared about. And to hear this, even more so as he was about to ship her off to Hogwarts, unsettled Draco deeply.

Instead of panicking, like he so very wanted to, he put on a brave smile. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” He said simply. “I’m sure you’ll make lots of friends.” He reassured her as best as he possibly could.

She shook her head. “That’s not what I’m afraid of.” She told him, and Draco gave her a confused look. Wasn’t making friends the number one thing that children were afraid of when starting a new school. Wow, how times had changed.

“Then what’s wrong?” he questioned intently, taking her hands in his in an attempt to make her feel safer than she obviously felt.

His daughter took a deep breath. “I’m not sly like you or brave like father.” She stated and Draco had to admit that he was more baffled than ever.

He tried and was very sure failed to mask his confusion, as he secretly told himself to do better at this whole parenting thing. He gave her hands a squeeze, “what does that have to do with it?” he enquired.

Her eyes glisten with silent tears as she lowered her head in what Draco assumed was shame. “I wanted to be like you Papa. I wanted to be like Daddy too. But I’m not. I’m different. I’m a Hufflepuff.” She whispered the last part quietly.

Draco blinked in complete shook. So, this was what this was all about. Now it all made sense. She wasn’t scared, no she was ashamed. He guessed she hadn’t quite figured that part out yet.

Well, she had nothing to be ashamed of, and he was determined to make her see that. He lifted her chin gently, so that her eyes were locked onto his. “Now you listen to me and you listen to me closely.” He told her seriously.

“The bravest and most beautiful person that I’ve ever had the pleasure of knowing was in Hufflepuff. Your namesake.” He said as he pulled out a ‘Draco Malfoy Pride’ badge pinning it to her robe. It shone brightly, a perfect fit.

He carried on, “And if you get sorted into Hufflepuff, then I trust that you’ll show the same kindness, love, and acceptance that she’d always shown.” He pulled his daughter into a tight embrace. “I promise you; I’ll never be prouder.” He told her earnestly as he held her close.

“I’ll make you happy?” she asked innocently, and Draco’s eyes teared up at her words. The same words that he’d heard so many years ago. The same words that kept him alive. That kept him fighting.

He reluctantly pulled away from her, giving her a strong nod. “You already make me happy; you will _always_ make me happy.” He told her truthfully, the words no longer feeling like a poison on his tongue. No, they tasted like salvation.

Draco smiled as he glanced in the direction of his friends, of his husband, of his _family_. It had almost killed him to get here. To make it to this moment. But he had made it. He had _everything_.

It had been a rocky journey. One filled with bumps at every turn. He’d survived, then he’d lived. He was weak but then he’d found strength. He’d lost but now he loved. And if you asked him if he would go back. If he would change anything. Then, his answer would be no.

He wouldn’t change any of it for the world because now, now he was finally _happy_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that's it! 'The Draco Malfoy Incident' is officially over! I just wanted to take the time to thank each and every last of you for your continued support, it allowed me to finish the fic. So, thank you! I hope you enjoyed reading as much as I enjoyed writing!! :) :) :)

**Author's Note:**

> Comments and Kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
